


Is it Just Me

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AU - No capes, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mutilation, Self Harm, sexual violence/abuse/rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce, heart broken and alone, finds himself in one of Gotham's small bars, trying to drown his sorrow. But when he is befriended by a young artist, and crashes at his apartment for the night, his entire world is turned upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by many repetitions of Hinder's "Is It Just Me".

Bruce drummed his fingers on the bar as he eyed the untouched shot of whiskey in front of him. He considered leaving it as is- of calling Alfred and getting a ride home. But then her face flashed in his memory and he was angry all over again- reaching for it and letting the liquid burn his throat, the clink of the glass on the bar an all too familiar sound.

He watched idly as someone walked up to the bar and leaned over it, speaking to the bar tender, who nodded and turned to mix a few drinks. The man- at least Bruce thought it was a man, he was pretty skinny, it was hard to tell- thanked the bar tender when he handed him a tall glass, laughing, before looking over and for- just a second- meeting Bruce’s eyes.

The gaze held for a minute, before Bruce looked away. The man’s smile flattened a little, before he turned back to the bar tender.

A moment later, another shot appeared before Bruce. He looked at the bar tender, who jerked his head back to the man, who had sat down and was sipping at his drink. He smiled and gave Bruce a little half wave, and for a moment, the world stopped. Bruce could ignore him, which seemed ideal considering how he felt towarsd the world at that very moment- or he could raise the glass, and maybe, just _maybe_ he’d come over for a moment.

Bruce didn’t know why- would never know why- but he grabbed the shot and raised it up, giving the man a bit of a smile before he downed it. He got a smile in return, and a flicker of the eyes to the empty bar stool next to Bruce. Bruce smiled- and somehow _understanding_ the man grabbed his drink and walked over, settling on the stool next to him.

“Thanks,” Bruce said, downing half the shot and setting it on the bar. The man smiled.

“No problem. You looked like you needed it.” Bruce watched as he took another sip of his drink. He had a pretty face- though he had some nasty scars lining his cheeks. It should have made him hideous, Bruce was sure, but something about that puckered skin seemed to fit him.

“Yeah,” Bruce said, finishing it off and setting it on the bar.

“Rough night?”

“Rough couple of years,” Bruce said, and the man gave him a sympathy head shake.

“Someone leave you?”

“That obvious?” The guy grinned and laughed- a sing-song sort of sound that Bruce found oddly warm.

“Oh yeah,” he said, setting his drink down and leaning against the bar- his hair, shocks of green curls playing against his cheeks and neck, dusting his shoulders. “You look like someone ripped your heart out and ran it over with a semi, cupcake.”

Bruce laughed at that, a real laugh. One he hadn’t had in a while. The man grinned and took another drink, crossing his legs, his purple high top bumping against the bar every so often as his foot moved. Bruce took a moment too long to examine the slender leg that led up to the rest of his body from that foot, clad in faded skinny jeans with the knees worn out. Bruce looked away quickly when he felt the green eyes on him, but if the man thought anything on that lingering gaze, he never said so.

They ordered another round of shots, the man setting aside his empty glass and joining Bruce, who was growing fuzzier and fuzzier.

“What’s your name?” Bruce asked as he set his empty shot glass down, his vision wavering and spinning for a second before it corrected itself. The man smiled as he set his own shot down and reached up to toy with his curls.

“Jack,” he said, smiling somewhat coyly. Bruce stared at that green curl, before he reached out and threaded some through his fingers. Jack’s smile turned more genuine and his lashes began to close- thick blonde, a hint to what hid under that green hair dye. His hair was oddly soft, and Bruce smiled at the pleased expression the man gave.

“I’m Bruce,” he said, pulling back before he got carried away- though he was sure touching him _was_ getting carried away.

“Well Bruce,” Jack said, taking up the fresh shot the bar tender had set down, “here’s to forgetting about broken hearts.”

Bruce raised his shot with a smile and down it.

“I should call my ride,” he said as the bar crowd thickened. He wasn’t interested in the claustrophobia the crowds would bring with them. He also knew he was in no shape to drive his car.

“Why don’t you come back to my place?” Jack asked. “It’s just down the block. It’ll be faster. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. We could order a pizza or something. Or Chinese.”

Bruce wasn’t sure what took over him in that moment- what he saw. Maybe it was the twinkle in those green eyes, or the small quirk in those lips, the way it pulled the scar tissue along his cheeks- maybe it was the memory of how oddly soft his hair was. But he smiled at him, and said one single word.

“Sure.”

The walk was rather nice- it was a warm spring in Gotham, May fresh and blossoming. Bruce had his hands in his pockets as he walked just behind Jack, watched the way his green t-shirt bunched and stretched along his lithe body.

They turned into one of the old apartment complexes and began up the stairs. “The elevator never works,” he had said with a shrug, and so they began up the stairs. Three flights and one creaky hallway later, they stood outside a door as Jack fumbled with his keys. Bruce had pulled his cell phone out and was looking at it as Jack stepped inside.

“One rule,” he said, jarring Bruce back to reality. “Put that thing away and don’t look at it until you leave. It’ll make you miss whoever she is- and the point of getting out is to _forget_.”

Bruce hesitated, then shoved his phone in his pocket and stepped inside. Jack locked the door behind him and Bruce looked around. The kitchen was to his left, and if he walked straight he could see the little living room. The walls, an ugly off white color that was probably prevalent through out the entire complex, were covered with various pieces of art- photography, sketches, paint, matted and framed quotes. He stared as Jack walked past him into the little kitchen and chucked his keys on the counter, opening the fridge and rummaging around.

“Sorry if it seems a bit cluttered,” he said as Bruce slipped his shoes off and walked towards the living room. There was an old, faded dark floral couch, and a TV set up opposite it against the wall. In front of the window, a huge esile was set up, half painted, with a little table littered with brushes and paint.

Bruce looked at the partially formed lines and splotches of color, then looked at the work on the walls- similar, even when attempting different styles.

“Are you an artist?” he asked, just as Jack walked out, holding two open bottles of beer. He handed one to Bruce and took a swig, shrugging one of his shoulders.

“I just recreate what I see- what I feel,” he offered, “but yeah, I guess I am. It pays the bills and all. Though sometimes not by much.” He walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling his own phone from his pocket. “Do you care what’s on the pizza?”

“Not really,” Bruce admitted, realizing as he downed a long gulp of the beer that he was starving. He let his eyes roam along the walls- a lot of figures and portraits, thick inky lines and bleeding colors, young folks- younger than Bruce.

He was studying one, a blonde girl with red leaking down from below one eye- black against the other, and a framed, matted quote beneath it,

_”Madness is the emergency exit.”_

“It’ll be like twenty minutes,” Jack said, and Bruce looked over at him. Jack smiled, looked at the work Bruce was studying, and then took a swig from his beer.

“That’s actually from a series,” he said, “Most of it is in storage right now- the originals, anyway. I sold prints of it. I just liked her portrait so much.”

“A girlfriend or something?” Bruce asked as he walked over and sat next to him on the couch. Jack laughed and set his beer on the floor.

“She’d get a kick outta hearing you say that. Nah, just a good friend. Student over at Gotham University, working on her Ph.D actually. Smart little thing- great model, too. Wore a Harlequin suit like no other.”

He grinned, and Bruce got the feeling there was more to it than that- but he didn’t ask. After all, despite the alcohol coursing through him, he knew it wasn’t his place.

Jack stretched out, gently resting his legs on Bruce’s lap and arching his back, the bones cracking. Bruce rolled his eyes, feeling so familiar with him already, and set his own beer on the floor, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Jack was warm against him- he liked it, really. Just warm enough, and idly, he stroked along his jean covered calf, feeling lean muscle against his fingers beneath the fabric. Jack shifted a bit, watched, smiled playfully.

Bruce opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, hand tracing up past Jack’s knee, to mid thigh, before back down. He darted his eyes over to Jack and watched as the hand trailed up again, just a bit higher- and Jack’s eyes stared back, steady and green and intense and they made Bruce’ stomach knot up tight.

He didn’t know what took over him in that moment- he’d never be able to explain it, really- but he shifted and leaned over, reaching out and sinking his hand into Jack’s hair, pulling him up close. Bruce felt his breath ghost against his lips for a moment, and then Jack closed the little gap, kissing him and reaching up to wrap his arms around his neck.

Bruce pressed him down into the couch, stretching out so they were chest to chest and their legs could tangle together. Jack arched against him as he nudged Bruce’s lips with the tip of his tongue- lips that gave way quickly and released an eager tongue to meet Jack’s. Jack clawed at Bruce’s shirt, clung to it as his hips pressed up into Bruce and he felt the friction and the heat and the hardness that pressed against his own groin.

Jack tasted like alcohol- a strong mix from the shots he took, that Long Island Ice Tea he’s started with, and now the beer. He made Bruce drunk, made his head spin and his breath catch like he didn’t know a stranger could, and Bruce was tracing one hand down along his side, pushing the hem of his shirt up to rest against his warm, soft skin. Jack mewled into his mouth and Bruce smiled, pushing his hips down and pinning him and forgetting any reserves he might have had suddenly, or that this was a stranger, a man, and those fingers curled around the hem of his jeans-

And then there was a knock at the door, followed by a voice- loud enough to jolt both of them. The kiss broke, Bruce leaned up, and they stared at each other, blinking for a moment and lost, before they were shifting and Jack was getting up quickly and Bruce was sitting and reaching for his beer and chugging down the rest of it because _what the hell was he doing_?

Jack came back a moment later, carrying a pizza box. He set it down on the floor and settled on the couch, folding up his legs and tapping his beer bottle against one knee, sucking on his lower lip. Those green eyes had a bit of a hazy look- the kind that tightened that knot in Bruce’s gut and reminded him of that hard heat he’d felt against his own groin.

Jack had reached for the remote he had one a little table next to the couch, and flipped the TV on, rummaging through the channels and settling on some dark scene that had to belong to a lower budget horror film. When he opened the pizza box, Bruce raised an eyebrow and forget the awkwardness he was feeling.

“Is that spinach?” he asked, and Jack grinned sheepishly, handing him a slice.

They ate half the pizza, had a few more beers, and before Bruce realized it, it was nearing two AM, they were on bad horror movie number three, and Jack had sprawled out on him again, this time resting against his chest, one of Bruce’s arms around him loosely, fingers stroking along his wrist.

It felt real, normal, and Bruce wasn’t sure he remembered the last time something had. Calm, he felt at home with this strange scarred boy and his odd- albeit delicious- taste in pizza, with his warm skin and lithe body. He didn’t feel weird with him curled up against him.

When Jack yawned and turned, pressing his face into Bruce’s chest, something grew fuzzy, tightened under those muscles, and Bruce reached his hand up form his wrists to play with the ends of his hair.

“Ready to crash?” Jack asked, as if it had already been decided that Bruce wans’t leaving. He saw nothing wrong with this conclusion.

“Yeah,” Bruce admitted. Jack nestled into him for another moment, before he pried himself away and flicked the TV off. The room was cast into darkness suddenly, and Bruce waited as Jack moved about, gathering up the pizza box and taking it to his kitchen to pop in the fridge, dropping off the latest empty beer bottles by his fridge.

Then he walked back into the dark and took Bruce’s hand, guiding him up and through a door that had been originally closed. What little light had peeked in from the cracked curtain in the living room was lacking in Jack’s bedroom, and it was pitch black. The green haired boy stumbled about a bit, before turning on a dim lamp next to the bed.

“It’s more comfy than the couch,” he said, “and it’s big enough for two. Besides, I don’t take up much room.”

Maybe if Bruce had been sober, maybe if he hadn’t already tasted Jack’s mouth once, he would have had warning bells going off in his head. As it stood, however, he was more than content with the idea of curling up with Jack under a thick blanket and sleeping the drinks off.

Bruce smiled at him and Jack grinned back.

“Want me to try and find you something to wear?” he asked as he popped the button on his jeans- an oddly alluring motion, despite how small it was. “I’m just gonna be in my underwear, so I’m not freaked out if you say no.”

Bruce wondered if he would have admitted that if he hadn’t been drunk. Regardless, Bruce smiled and declined, deciding he’d like to be curled up with _skin on skin_. Jack smiled back, seemed to like that idea too.

Bruce walked around the bed and took his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. He did give Jack a bit of privacy and turned away as he undressed- though he swore he felt those green eyes flicker to him every now and then. When he heard the mattress move he turned- in nothing but his black boxer-briefs, and climbed in as well. Jack was quick to hit the light, and the room was flooded in a cool darkness.

Bruce settled down on his back, took a breath, waited it out, and then felt Jack shift, move closer, run his fingers along his arm. Bruce smiled- though it would never be seen- and lifted his arm, letting Jack slip in against him and rest against his chest.

“Best damn pillow ever,” Jack muttered against the muscle and soft skin, kissing it gently. “You must work out a lot.”

“Not all that much,” Bruce admitted, and Jack just shrugged and slipped a leg over his. He closed his eyes as Jack stroked his side, arm draped over him, those fingers on his waist tracing incoherent patterns.

He could have drifted just like that. The booze had made him sleepy- hell, that fact that it was two AM had made him sleepy- his sorrow had exhausted him, and Jack was so utterly inviting he couldn’t resist to calmness that swept over him.

He was so close to sleep he could feel it, when he realized Jack’s fingers were slowly making their way down his side, until they had reached the hem of his underwear. He cracked his eyes open as the pads of his fingers traced along the fabric, the slightest hint of dark hair that poked out to trail up towards his navel.

Bruce felt Jack exhale against him- was he nervous?- and gave a gentle press of his body up against those finger tips. Maybe in the morning he could think about _why_ , but the yearn for sleep in Bruce’s bones subsided for the moment and a yearn for something else began to rise.

Jack took a breath and let his hand delve down, over Bruce’s cock to palm it through his underwear. The soft touches had left him half hard, and he pushed against Jack’s palm as he continued to harden, closing his eyes against the darkness and exhaling roughly.

When Jack stroked him through the fabric, Bruce couldn’t keep his hips from gyrating with them. He wanted to feel that hand, those nimble fingers and warm skin- wanted to feel how Jack _wanted_ to touch him.

Jack moved- as if sensing Bruce’s thoughts- and pulled his underwear down below his cock, wrapping his hand around the thick member and stroking. Bruce tipped his head back completely, exhaling, groaning, as Jack’s palm and fingers slicked with precum. He could feel Jack shifting around, but for the moment didn’t care as that hand tortured him-

Until it was suddenly replaced by a warm, wet mouth, and Bruce cried out as he was engulfed. Jack’s hands were on his hips, not holding him down but steadying his thrusts, and Bruce reached down to clutch one of those hands in his own, so close already.

Jack squeezed his hand as Bruce gasped that he was close, and swallowed him deeper- a silent _it’s okay_ , and Bruce lost himself, spent down Jack’s tight throat with a cry and a final thrust up into that warm wet mouth. Jack swallowed and clutched Bruce’s hand the whole time- sucked until Bruce had calmed down was was soft against his lips.

Bruce barely registered Jack pulling his underwear back up, or him shifting in the bed- but he felt him curl up against his chest again, sighing somewhat- as if _he_ was the one satisfied now- and realized Jack still held his hand, fingers entwined now.

He squeezed that hand and felt Jack’s lips curl into a smile against his skin.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce felt the sun more than he saw it through his eyelids. It was pressing in through the thin curtains in Jack’s room- curtains that had been thick enough to keep out the streetlights, but against an early May Gotham sun, they were like sheets of paper.

He rolled over, onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, and thought of muttering to Alfred to close the windows- he wasn’t in the mood, not with the day he’d had. But then he felt the bed shift a little next to him, felt a set of fingers reach out and dance delicately along his spine- smelled a sweet scent on the pillowcase that wasn’t his cologne, or her perfume.

He opened his eyes and Jack smiled at him, his curls a tussled mess, eyes hazy from sleep but warm, inviting. Bruce smiled because there was no other option when staring at that scarred face.

“Morning sleepy head,” Jack said, taking his hand back and sitting up, stretching his arms, the bones of his shoulders cracking. Bruce watched his nearly naked frame- felt his cheeks tinge pink. God, they were both in their underwear? How’d they get to that point?

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he rolled over and sat up, raked his hands through his dark to smooth it down.

“Like eleven,” Jack said with a shrug, slipping from the bed and walking over to his dresser. Bruce watched, eyes raking down his spine and staring at his ass in the tight purple fabric of his own boxer briefs- before he realized what he was doing and turned his head towards the curtained window.

There were other easels in here- one had a half drawn sketch, the other a nearly finished piece of a redheaded man in a green suit, question marks in his rather enticing eyes.

Bruce got up and walked over, looking at the work, and didn’t hear Jack walked up behind him. The green haired boy waited a moment before reaching a hand out and touching Bruce’s arm. Bruce looked at him, and Jack was smiling.

“Do you wanna see my work?” he asked.

“Maybe some other time,” Bruce admitted. The morning was nearly gone- he needed to get home, get himself cleaned up. God he had things to do, _what the hell happened_?

If Jack was put off by the remark, he didn’t show it. He just smiled, batted those blonde eyelashes, and turned to leave the bedroom. Bruce watched him leave- now in a pair of low hung gray sweatpants and no shirt, before he gathered up his own clothes and put them on.

Once Bruce was dressed he walked out of the bedroom, found the living room empty, but could hear Jack rummaging around close by. He walked over to the kitchen, found him by an open cupboard, popping open little orange containers and collecting pills in one of his hands. Bruce leaned against the doorway frame and watched as Jack set three on the counter and reached for another bottle.

“I won’t bite,” Jack said without looking back, “that it, unless you want me to.”

He turned and winked as he pulled down the last bottle, popping it open and fishing a pill out. He set it on the counter and put the bottle away as Bruce walked over, looking at the pills as Jack grabbed a glass and ran some tap water in it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his chest suddenly tight and his heart beating faster at the sight of all that medication. His mind didn’t jump to the idea that maybe Jack was a druggie and this was just his morning fix- for a moment he thought maybe he was plagued with cancer or something _and his heart broke and he didn’t know why_.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he said, gathering up the pills in one hand. “I’m not dying or anything.” He popped them into his mouth, took a swallow of water, and Bruce watched that pale throat work the pills down. Jack took another drink, then set the glass down. “Anti-psychotics and all. No cancer, just a screw loose if I don’t take my meds.” He smiled, and Bruce didn’t feel the least bit alarmed.

“You don’t seem crazy to me.”

He laughed, grinning like a silly fool. “Ah, good! My meds are working then!” He leaned his hip against the counter. “Really though, I swear I’m not that crazy. I’ve got some sensory issues is all, and without some meds, I just can’t deal with everything I take in in a normal way.”

Jack hoisted himself up onto the counter and sat, scooting closer to Bruce, who idly ran his hands along his thigh- and when he caught himself, he was too embarrassed to stop, because he didn’t want Jack to realize Bruce didn’t seem to have control around him.

“Do you just feel to much?” Bruce asked, confused, and Jack leaned his head back against the cupboards, closing his eyes.

“More than that, sugar.” Bruce’s cheeks tinged. A pet name now? He should get out while he could still see the door. “I can see the breath you breathe, the colors laced in it, the way they lace uo your skull and into your eyes. I can hear the song in your fingers-“ he reached down, took Bruce’s hand and placed it against his belly- Bruce’s fingers brushing a scar. “When you touch me. I can feel you down to the marrow in my bones.”

Bruce was silent- didn’t know what to say- and just stroked that scar slowly. Jack looked down at him, eyelids heavy, and Bruce leaned closer, as if there was a thread between their lips pulling him in, until he was so close he could feel Jack’s breath-

Suddenly, his phone was vibrating in his pocket- so much so it was audible. Bruce froze, and part of him cursed, but he leaned back, pulling it out and looking at the name flashing on the screen,

_Alfred_.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, catching the sadness in his own voice.

“It’s okay,” Jack said, slipping off the counter. “We’ve all got lives. Billionaires especially.” Bruce’s head jerked away from his phone, and Jack just grinned. “What? Didn’t think I recognized your face and name? I just didn’t want to say anything- thought it might be nice for you to leave that behind for a night.”

Bruce smiled. It had been.

Jack turned and reached for a pad of paper on the counter and a pen, scribbling something on it, before tearing it off and turned to Bruce, handing it to him.

“Call me sometime?” His smile seemed tentative- and Bruce realized he the guy might be afraid that Bruce wouldn’t.

“Of course,” Bruce said, smiling and taking Jack’s hand, squeezing it. Why did that made his chest tight? Why was something stirring in him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on?

They walked to the door as Bruce stuffed the paper in his pocket. Jack opened it and leaned against it as Bruce stood in the doorway, on the threshold of leaving something sweet and oddly calm behind- this apartment, this boy, the whole idea of leaving everything else in his life on the curb and sealing himself away in here oddly tempting.

Bruce reached out, played with a few of Jack’s green curls- he’d never liked those crazy hair colors people used, but this fit Jack so perfectly, it was beautiful.

_Beautiful_.

He sank his fingers into that hair and tugged Jack closer, kissed his lips gently. He restrained the urge to open his mouth and explore him, because he couldn’t _explain_ that- but the kiss seemed normal. Why couldn’t he kiss a friend?

_Because people usually do that._

Jack reached up and gripped onto his wrist, whimpered against Bruce’s lips softly, and then Bruce was leaving, pulling himself away or he’d never leave.

He called Alfred once he’d gotten out of the complex, and didn’t offer any explanation, just gave him the bar’s address and walked down the street to wait. The air was warm and sweet, and he felt oddly light, the heaviness of his heart ache gone. He didn’t need it, didn’t need her- he was Bruce Wayne, and he’s be just fine.

Alfred was there in record time, and Bruce settled into the front passenger seat instead of the back, smiling as Alfred began driving.

“I was most worried, sir,” Alfred said, “I came in this morning and you were gone. I called Kenneth and he said he didn’t pick you up last night. I feared the worst, Master Bruce.”

“Talia left again,” Bruce said, and Alfred sighed.

“Ah, well, that explains it, sir. I noticed she had come around less frequently, as of late. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Bruce said, smiling, and Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s a first then, sir. May I ask how you came to not be sorry?”

“I met this guy,” Bruce said, “last night, at the bar. And I can’t explain it, Alfred but- but he made me forget her. He was...colorful, to say the least.”

Alfred said nothing, just continued to drive as Bruce gazed out the window and thought of Jack’s smile and the sweetness of his hair.

Bruce forced himself to go to the office the next day. He knew he had work to do- a company to run- and it would keep his mind off things. He’d called Talia twice the night before, but she had ignored his calls and he’d left voice mails, just wanting to talk. Wanting to know if everything was at least okay. He was proud that he didn’t sound as broken as he had felt earlier- but without Jack there to hold his hand and smile at him, he felt like he was falling again a bit.

He’d thought of calling Jack while he sat in the office, but realized his number was floating around Bruce’s desk in his bedroom, back at the penthouse. He’d never entered it into his phone. Instead, he settled into reading over proposals, and even attending one of the late running board meetings, leaving the office around seven that night, hoping the exhaustion would keep him from missing her too much.

Instead, it had just left him starving. He considered stopping somewhere to eat- he didn’t feel like making dinner himself, and he had insisted that Alfred be done working well before he was home, he was worried that the man wasn’t getting enough rest and time to himself- but instead drove his car down familiar streets and walked into a small, dimly lit bar far enough from his part of town that he wouldn’t be recognized-

Except by dancing green eyes.

A quick scan of the room didn’t reveal Jack, and Bruce sat down at the bar and asked for a scotch, thinking he’d have a drink or two, and if Jack appeared he’d spend some time with him. If not he’d go home and try to call Talia half a dozen times.

A few sips into his drink though, he felt a hand run up along his back and squeeze his shoulder as a slim body settled down next to him on the stool.

“Hey there sugar,” Jack said, grinning, and Bruce smiled back.

“Hey stranger. I hoped you’d show up.”

“Well, this is my favorite bar,” Jack admitted, “though I had no intention of leaving my apartment tonight. I was painting though, when suddenly this voice inside me said I needed a drink, that if I didn’t get my ass down here I’d regret it. Guess that voice was right.” They laughed and Jack stole Bruce’s scotch, taking a small sip before handing it back, and when Bruce finished it off, he made sure his lips touched the same spot Jack’s had.

“I’m starving,” Bruce said, “I’ve been at my office all day. Wanna grab a bite with me?”

Jack grinned and reached out, tracing Bruce’s hand- giving him chills.

“Brucie, I’d love to.”

Bruce drove them back towards the center of Gotham, Jack watching the world rush by out the overly tinted window, fingers running along the plush seats. They left the car parked off one street and took to the warm night on foot, Bruce still in his slacks and jacket- Jack in another pair of faded and worn skinny jeans and those purple high-tops. They looked like two different worlds.

“You sure you’re okay with sushi?” Bruce asked as they entered the restaurant. Jack grinned.

“I’ve put weirder things in my mouth.”

Bruce’s cheeks tinged as the hostess greeted him warmly by name and led them back. He could feel Jack’s mouth and he didn’t know _why_. He was missing something.

They settled down, and Jack left it up to Bruce what they ate. The lights were low and the room was a bit chilly- Bruce could see the flesh along Jack’s V-neck turning to goosebumps.

“What were you painting?” Bruce asked, and Jack grinned.

“A new piece,” he said, “I’ve been inspired- which is good, considering I’ve been worried my work is getting a bit stale. It’s going to be a series, with a spoken word and visual word piece as well. But that tends to be my thing. Why assault your senses with one media, when you can use many?”

Bruce said nothing and sipped at the water the waiter had given them. He remembered what Jack said about his senses, and he imagined Jack near orgasm with his senses on high overload- _God why did he imagine that?_

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jack said, tapping his fingers on the table. “And don’t worry, sex doesn’t kill me. But it _is_ intense.” He grinned, and Bruce’s cheeks tinged again. Jack had the uncanny ability to make him blush, it seemed.

_Why do I need to know that? Why do I want to know that?_ Bruce ignored it as their food was brought over, and he concentrated instead on eating- which turned into watching Jack’s oddly perfect lips move, and his throat work as he swallowed.

Conversations died, except every time Jack failed at lifting the Sushi with his chop sticks, at which Bruce would laugh and tease him, and after a few times it was Jack’s turn to blush, and he lifted the little morsel with his fingers and popped it into his mouth- taking a moment to lick a small dab of Wasabi sauce from one finger tip. That pink tongue gave Bruce’s blood a racing fire that made him shift in his seat.

When they were done, they headed back out to the streets, now lively as nightlifers headed to and from restaurants, shops, clubs and shows.

“Interested in another few drinks?” Jack asked, and Bruce laughed.

“I have to be at the office in the morning,” he said, and Jack pouted.

“Babe, you _own_ the company, I think you can be out a little late.” Bruce rolled his eyes, but realized he liked the pet names, in the pit of his belly.

“Sorry, but there are meetings, I need to be there.” Jack kept his pout and leaned against the wall of a building, folding his arms. “But if you’re interested, I’d love to meet for a drink after.”

This time it was Jack’s turn to decline. “I can’t sugar. I’ve got an exhibit going live Saturday afternoon, I’ll be spending all of tomorrow finishing the set-up.” He reached out and took Bruce’s hand, pulling him close so Bruce had to press his forearm to the wall to steady himself. “Why don’t you come see it?” He asked, lifting Bruce’s hand and kissing a fingertip. “I promise it won’t be that boring. Even if yous just stop by.”

Art had never been Bruce’s thing- he could admire classical pieces with the other rich snobs, but only when it was required. Jack’s eyes were pleading though- and Bruce realized this meant something to him.

“Sure,” he said, smiling. “I’d like that.”

Bruce drove Jack back to his apartment, and made a note in his phone of the address and time for Saturday. Jack took his time taking his seat belt off, hesitating. Bruce watched him suck on his lower lip, before he was leaning over the seats, reaching for Bruce. One hand gripped his shoulder, while the other gripped the headrest of his seat as he pressed their lips together.

Bruce felt him quivering, and reached out, rested a hand on his waist and let those lips move against his. He should have gently pushed him off, should have told Jack they were just friends, he wasn’t interested in men- but he found his mouth responding, his lips moving lazily with Jacks, and realized he didn’t _want_ to deny him.

“Thanks for dinner,” Jack said, nearly out of breath as he leaned back. Bruce just smiled. “I’ll see you Saturday.” A nod, and then Jack was untangling himself and out of the car, sprinting into the building because he was afraid Bruce would change his mind, and he couldn’t bare to hear that.

Bruce drove home with the taste of Jack’s mouth in his, and the image of him sucking on his lower lip like an unsure portrait of desire.

Jack thought of Bruce Thursday as he worked. He tried not to miss him, tried to remind himself he’d see him that weekend, tried to tell himself he wasn’t a high school girl and it was silly to get so excited about someone who was still, in many respects, a stranger. But his heart beat like a hummingbird in his chest, and everything reminded him of those dark eyes.

That night, he got a text from Bruce. He’d been afraid Bruce had thrown his number away, and he nearly squealed- was thankful in that moment he didn’t have a roommate and that he hadn’t been in public. It was a simple message, an apology that he had been so busy that day, and a good-night wish.

Jack tumbled down into his bed with his phone, pressed his face into the pillow Bruce had used and smelled his cologne. Then he wished Bruce a good night, added a heart, and closed his eyes to remember how it felt to be pressed into Bruce’s warm chest as he slept.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m telling you, Harley,” Jack said, the next day as he lifted a large framed canvas and guided it onto a hook, “the man is gorgeous.”

The blonde rolled her eyes as she watched him hang the work, and when he stepped back she walked over and straightened it.

“You say that about all of them,” she said, and Jack frowned.

“Make me out to be a whore, thanks doll. I mean it, I like Bruce. There’s something...about him.”

“You’ve spent all of two nights with this guy,” she said, picking up a smaller piece and hanging. Jack hung one right next to it, a few stray curls coming loose from the lazy ponytail he had resting against his neck. “I don’t think you can say much about how you feel, yet.”

“Remember how I felt with Eddie?”

Harley stopped, eyeing Jack from the corner of her eye. “Yeah,” was all she said. _He never brings Eddie up- not in this context. The break up was too hard on him._

“Well, these butterflies are stronger. Tenfold, easily.” Jack stepped back, fixing one of the sleeves on his purple plaid shirt as it tried to unroll from his elbow. “I got them when I first saw him. And when we kissed? Oh lord, there was a fucking Sharknado in my gut.”

Harley would have laughed at the horrid movie reference, but she was staring at him. “Wait, you kissed the guy? I never pictured Wayne as being into dudes.”

“Eh, we were drunk.” Jack shrugged a shoulder. “The first time, anyway. He kissed me in the morning when he left- and he let me kiss him the other night. He never tried to stop me.”

Harley contemplated this as she walked around the large room, the walls filled with work- a large string of it involving her.

“I’m shocked you pulled out the Harlequin series again,” she said, trying to change the subject while she internally pondered this sudden shift in life events for her best friend. “I figured you were sick of it.”

“Never sick of you, pumpkin,” he said, winking at her. “Besides, it hasn’t been seen since what, that one exhibit I had seven or eight months ago? It’s still a crowd favorite- maybe we’ll sell a few prints of it.”

“You could make a fortune on the originals,” Harley pointed out, “if you’d just part with them.”

Jack shook his head. He didn’t like to part with much of his work at all- though he had, over the years, as the original pieces always sold better than the prints, and at much higher costs. As it stood, he used the attic of his apartment building as storage- paying a rather high monthly rent on that to keep the work he didn’t hang in his apartment in there.

Maybe someday he would, but as it stood he liked it too much. It was how he expressed the things no one understood- the world he soaked in that no one even saw. Besides, he wanted to gift one of the larger pieces in the set to Harley- he was just waiting for the right occasion.

“I’m painting him, you know,” Jack said, walking over to Harley and putting an arm around her shoulders- giving her a gentle squeeze. She reached up, covered his hand with her own and sighed.

“Does he know?” Jack shook his head. “Oh Puddin’, what are you getting yourself into?”

Bruce was sitting on his couch, looking over some papers he’d brought home from the office, when the elevator opened to the main floor of the Penthouse, and he heard a young, rather eager voice greeting Alfred and asking, “Where the hell Bruce was now?”

“He’s in the parlor, sir,” Alfred replied, and the young man clapped him on the shoulder, thanked him, and walked in, tossing his dark hair out of his eyes.

“Bruce, how the hell are you?” Bruce set the papers down and stood up, grinning.

“Dick, what brings you here?” He hugged the man, patting him on the back. “And I’ve been better.”

“Trying to figure out where you’ve been. Haven’t heard from you recently- heard a nasty rumor down the grape vine though.” Bruce didn’t say anything, and Dick frowned. “Shit, she really left again?” He nodded, and the two sat down on the couch. “Well, good for you, you’re better without Talia. I say this every time, man. It’s really better for you.”

“I’ve been telling myself that,” Bruce admitted. Dick smiled. His grey eyes were sparkling.

“We’ll just have to go out. I’m sure all the ladies in Gotham will nearly wet their panties knowing you’re a bachelor... again.” Bruce laughed, but shook his head.

“Thanks Dick but... I’m not really interested.” Dick leaned forward, arms resting on his legs, and eyed Bruce- before a big grin took over his face.

“Bruce, I’ll be damned... you’ve already met someone, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes?” Bruce flushed a bit and shook his head, just as Alfred walked out with a tray of coffee.

“No...well, yes...sort of. It’s complicated, Dick. It’s not what you think at all.” Bruce nodded his thanks to Alfred, who had the hint of a smile on his face- knowing exactly who Bruce meant, who flustered him so. Truth be told, he had never been fond of Talia, she tore Bruce up too much. The giddiness Bruce had been trying to hide when he spoke and thought of Jack made Alfred happy. “I met this guy at a bar the other night.”

Dick stopped sipping his coffee and stared. “Woah, woah, woah, _guy_? Damn Bruce, I’ve been telling you for years you ought to give us a shot. Guys are just-“

“I said it’s not what you think.” Bruce sighed. “We’re not... not together, or anything. He’s just... something about him. It calms me, he’s peaceful. It’s like someone put hot coals inside me when I’m with him.”

Dick chuckled. “Yeah, not what I think at all, sure Bruce. Dream boy have a man?”

“Jack,” Bruce said, “And really, it’s not. I mean...I don’t think. I kissed him a few times, but-“

Dick laughed. “Dude, you don’t just kiss a guy and say it’s nothing-“

“But it was just a _kiss_.”

“You sure? ‘Cause your blush says otherwise.” Bruce reached up and touched his cheek- hot and flushed. He frowned. He didn’t know why he got so flustered thinking of Jack- of kissing him, touching him-

He remembered being entangled with him on the couch, his fingers tracing along the hem of his jeans. He remembered their hips grinding, how he was hard and he didn’t know why, how Jack was too, and _he hadn’t remembered that before, not until now_.

“Yes... No... I think. I was drunk,” Bruce admitted, and Dick laughed even more.

“God Bruce, you probably had an ass full of cock and don’t even remember-“

“Dick!”

“That too!” Dick was laughing and Bruce wanted to punch him. He settled for a gentle hit to the arm, and Dick calmed down slowly. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Bruce. So you met this guy, and suddenly you don’t care about Talia?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Well, when I’m with him. I haven’t seen him in a few days, so she’s creeping back into my thoughts. But I’m going to see him tomorrow- he’s an artist and he’s got a show or exhibit or something.” Suddenly, Bruce smiled. “Why don’t you come with me? That way you can meet him- _then_ you’ll understand.”

Dick- who was more interested in art than Bruce- smiled. “Okay, on the condition that I can bring Jason. The man needs some culture.”

“Deal.” The two smiled, and Bruce felt a little lighter.

Bruce met Dick downtown Saturday evening, as the sun was setting and the street lights were coming on. Jack hadn’t said it was anything fancy, and Bruce couldn’t imagine it being so, considering they were in the club district of the city- so he’d opted for jeans and a light, soft black sweater of a grey button down. Dick had stuck to a blue and black striped sweater, and waved to him from where he stood, waiting.

“It’s just down the block, I think,” Bruce said, looking at the address on his phone.

“Second to last building.” Bruce looked up, met a pair of startling blue eyes, and Jason’s smug grin.

“How do you know?”

“Been in this part of town plenty of times,” he said, flicking his cigarette and then taking a drag. “Didn’t expect to see you in this part, though, Brucieee.” He winked, and Bruce rolled his eyes. He knew Dick was crazy about Jason, but sometimes he wanted nothing more than to slap the younger man.

They headed down the street, stopped at the second to last building, just as Jason had said, and saw a rather large amount of people streaming in. Bruce stopped- he hadn’t expected to see any sort of real crowd. Dick watched, then looked at the windows to the building- which was a permanent pop-culture and contemporary art exhibit, and his mouth fell open as he read the flyers.

“Bruce, your Jack...is he Jack Napier?”

Bruce shrugged a shoulder and looked at the flyers. “He never told me his last name, actually. But he’s the only artist listed, so it must be-“

“Bruce, you’re an idiot!” He turned to Dick, who was shaking his head. “God, you had me thinking we were going to basically some high school art show. Jack Napier is the most popular young contemporary artist in Gotham! His work is just..extraordinary!”

Bruce stared. Dick couldn’t really mean his Jack? He hadn’t had the personality, the vanity, for that.

“He’s not lying,” Jason said, tossing down his cigarette and stomping it out. “His work is insanely popular. Most people I know have at least one print of his work somewhere. A few people are lucky enough to have originals- but not many. He likes to keep those.”

_Jack does have his work in storage, he said._

“Bruce, you remember that fire back two years ago, that burned down those old warehouses?” Bruce nodded. “You know the series of prints I have of it in my living room?” Another nod. “Yeah, those are Jack’s. He happened by the area when it happened, had his camera, and stayed taking shots all night. He put them into a thirty image series, from start to finish- though most people shorten it to just six, since not a lot of us have the room for all those. He was even in the paper for staying there all night- he donated most of the money he made to the victims that lived in the one apartment building on that street that partially burnt as well.”

Bruce stared. He did remember that, but he never...he never thought this Jack could be the same one!

“Jesus, only you would pick someone like Jack as your first gay experience,” Dick said. “C’mon, we should get inside while we still can.”

The three headed inside, cramming on the elevator with others to head up to the third floor, where Jack’s work was out. When the elevator opened they were greeted by a small waiting area that had been decorated with a few black and white photographs he’d taken, and the doorway to the main, large room, which had a few other side rooms filled with art as well.

They stepped into the room, just as people we gathering towards one corner, and followed the crowd.

“I can’t thank everyone enough for coming out tonight,” Jack was saying, smiling at all the faces he could see. His green curls were pulled into a loose ponytail over one shoulder, and he’d lined his eyes in a smokey black that gave him a rather androgynous look. His black shirt was hanging off one pale shirt- black and flowing, and if Bruce had thought about it, he’d surely note cut for women.

“First, let’s all give a round of thanks to my good friend, Oswald!” The room applauded, and Oswald Cobblepot walked out, large and well dressed with a thin, glittering woman hanging onto one arm. “He’s always the first to offer up a floor to me when I want a show. I owe you some work, my friend. Maybe of your new lovely lady friend, if she sticks around long enough.”

Everyone laughed, including Oswald, who didn’t deny how quickly he went through arm candy. His money allowed for that.

“We’ll set a date,” he promised. “And it’s always my pleasure Jack, your work brings life into this place. I’ve been a fan since you first came onto the scene.”

Jack smiled and tipped his head, before addressing the crowd again. “And, as always, I’d like to thank the most beautiful woman in my life- my darling Harley. Harley, come here doll.” He reached a hand out and she sauntered over, her thick blonde curls bouncing as she let him wrap it around her and squeeze. “I wouldn’t be here without her love and support. She’s the best friend and model I could ask for.” The room applauded- rather loudly, Bruce noted- before Jack spoke again. “And for all of you curious, we have set out the Harlequin series, which of course stars this lovely woman.”

There was more applause, before Jack cleared his throat to finish.

“And finally, before I let you all break open Oswald’s expensive champagne and hopefully not find my work too dull-“ there were laughs, “I’d like to announce that I am working on a new series of pieces, that hopefully I will be able to have in an exhibit sometime this coming fall, if all goes according to plan. When it’s finished and Oswald and I have set a date, we will be sure to let the city know.”

There was more applause, before the crowd broke. Bruce watched them go, eyes on Jack, who had been taken aside by a young couple who were very eagerly talking to him.

“Don’t wait,” Dick said, nudging Bruce forward, “If you don’t hurry, you’ll never get his attention. Everyone always clamors for time with Jack at these things.”

Bruce took a deep breath, then pressed through the room, slipping his hands in his pockets to try and look casual. He was glad that Jack, despite the rather glorified shirt, still had on skinny jeans- these ones were an inky blue with a thick black tuxedo stripe up the side of each leg- and his signature purple hightops.

“Jack,” he said, as he neared, and Jack turned. He stared for a moment, before his face broke into a huge grin. He turned to the couple and thanks them for coming, before excusing himself and rushing over to Bruce.

“Bruce!” he said, wrapping his arms around him in a sudden hug that Bruce didn’t even have time to return. “I’m so glad you came!” He smiled up at him, and Bruce felt his chest tighten, would have blushed if he hadn’t fought it down, knowing Dick and Jason were nearing.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, “I had...I had no idea, Jack, that you were a big deal. You didn’t make your work seem so... popular.”

He shrugged a shoulder gently. “I don’t play myself up,” he said, “I’m not interested in that. Just in making my work and letting others enjoy it.” He cocked his head a little when Dick and Jason came up to Bruce, who glanced at them.

“Oh, Jack, this is Dick, a childhood friend, and his boyfriend, Jason.”

“Hi,” Jack said, smiling and offering a small wave of his pale hand.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Dick said, reaching out and shaking said hand. “I’ve got some of your work in my home.”

“Really? Which pieces?” Jack asked, face lighting up.

“Everything Burns- the abridged edition. It’s hanging right in my parlor where everyone can see it. It’s about the only thing anyone ever comments on.”

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” Jack said, “Especially if you’re a friend of Bruce’s. Let me know if there’s another piece you like, I’ve got prints of most of my work, if you’d like a new conversation starter.”

Dick beamed, and Bruce knew he’d never hear the end of this.

“Puddin’, are you going to just leave me in the dark?” Harley walked over, hands on her rounded hips, her heels clicking against the floor. Jack smiled and wrapped an arm around her.

“I’m sorry. Guys, this is Harleen Quinzel, my main model and long time friend.” He gave her a squeeze. “Harley, this is Jason, Dick, and Bruce, who I was mentioning earlier.”

She eyed the first two quickly, then took Bruce’s hand and shook it, staring at him intently. “Nice to meet you, Bruce,” she said, “Jack has said many good things about you.”

Bruce smiled- he could hear the venom in her voice, and for a moment he thought he was meeting Jack’s mother.

Jack had to excuse himself to mingle with other guests, but promised he’d return soon. Dick, eager to have a look at the works on display, took Jaosn by the arm and guided him away, leaving Bruce to walk the room with Harley.

“It’s good that you came,” she said, stopping at a piece Jack had sketched and colored in running, watery paint of a woman slowly transforming into a bird. “Jack would have been heart broken if you hadn’t. You were all he talked about yesterday when we were setting up.”

“Really?” Bruce asked, looking at her, but she only shot him a glance.

“Really. He’s taken quite a liking to you. Honestly, I haven’t seen him like this in quite some time- not since his ex, anyway. So let me ask you something, Bruce.” This time she did turn to him. “What’s all this to you?”

Bruce stared at her for a moment. “All...this?”

“Yeah, you and Jack. What is it? He keeps _saying_ that you’re just friends... but I can hear it in his voice, he’s got hopes- even if he won’t voice them. He’s smitten- and if you’re going to break his heart, do it now before he’s in too deep.”

Bruce stared at her for a moment, before he closed his eyes, trying to think of _words_ , anything to say-

But he felt Jack’s hand in his instead, felt the cool darkness surrounding them and those fingers trailing down his body, touching places hot and hard and wanting-

And he felt that mouth and he opened his eyes and he _remembered_.

And he needed to find Jack. That very second.

“Excuse me,” Bruce said, dodging Harley’s question and briskly walking away in search of the artist. Harley watched him go, arms folded- undecided on how she felt about the famous Bruce Wayne.

Bruce found Jack as he was walking back into the main room- grabbed him by the arm and turned him gently.

“We need to talk,” Bruce said in a hushed voice.

“Okay-“

“Not here. Is there somewhere we can go, for a minute or two?” Jack nodded, guiding Bruce towards the elevators. They got on one and he hit the “4” button. The elevator shot up, just for a moment, before it opened and Jack led him out into a carpeted hallway.

“Top floor is just for storage and stuff,” Jack said, “No one should be up here. What’s up, sugar?” They had walked away from the elevator, and Jack leaned against one richly wall papered wall- color and textured framing him unlike the harsh white of the lower levels, meant to not detract from the art.

Bruce took a deep breath. “Jack... I... we... what _happened_ between us?” Jack stared, and Bruce tried to clarify, while still dodging the subject. “The other night- when we were drunk.”

Jack’s cheeks tinged pink, and Bruce had his answer before the man even spoke.

“Fuck,” Jack muttered, slumping a bit. “Shit Bruce...I wasn’t sure if you remembered or not... and I... I didn’t wanna bring it up. I’m sorry, we were drunk and I was so out of line.” He bit his lower lip, brought color to it. “I swear, I’m not going to tell anyone. I bet you’re pissed.”

Bruce probably should have said yes, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what he was. On the one hand, the memories were glorious now that they had returned- and on the other, he had butterflies standing here alone with Jack. Neither thing were negative.

“No,” Bruce finally said. “I’m not. I’m just...confused. I’m not- I mean- I’ve never-“

“Been with a guy?” He nodded. “Yeah, I sorta figured.” Bruce waited for a moment, and when he didn’t speak, he asked,

“You have been?” Jack laughed, the rich sound invading Bruce’s mind and sending it floating.

“Oh yeah,” Jack said, “I’m not really into women. At all. The only exception is Harley- and we only ever fucked a few times, when we were bored and drunk and horny and alone.” He shrugged a shoulder. Bruce nodded, not entirely sure what to say, if anything. So Jack took the conversation up again. “If you want to leave, I understand. I won’t call you or anything.”

Bruce watched those lips move, the way the light in those eyes dimmed- and leaving was the last thing he wanted. He reached out, cupping Jack’s face in his hands and guided him up, kissing those lips gently. Jack froze for a second, before he melted into Bruce, reaching out to clutch at his sweater as their mouths moved together. Bruce kept it brief, sweet, and when he pulled back his ran his thumbs along the scars on Jack’s face- silently wondering about them for the first time.

Jack’s eyelids were heavy at the touch, and his lips parted as he whimpered. Bruce mentally noted he _liked_ his scars being touched- buts topped because he wasn’t sure what he was doing or if he was ready for that.

“I can’t promise you anything,” Bruce said, “but you do something to me, Jack. I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t know if this is... something more than just friendship, but I’m not leaving. Just go slow with me, okay?”

Jack smiled at nodded. That was hope- and hope was better than nothing.

Bruce wanted to leave with Jack, but he’d be at the gallery until early in the morning cleaning up and mingling. Bruce left with Dick and Jason well before that, Dick asking, and eagerly listening, as Bruce recounted the upstairs encounter. And then he squealed like a child.

“Oh Bruce! This is fantastic. You’re dating one of Gotham’s most popular artists! Oh the sheer scandal for you- it’s delicious!”

“We’re not dating,” Bruce corrected. “We’re friends. I don’t know what this is, but I’m going to find out. Slowly, though.”

Jason said nothing, having lit a fresh cigarette. He watched the two bicker playfully on the subject idly, knowing he’d be hearing all about it again on the way back to Dick’s apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I needed something else to work on aside of Ground Zero, and this baby was born over the past two days. I've never done a capeless AU, so I'm pretty excited for this. Like Ground Zero, it's got the promise to be long. I sorta blew it out of proportion.
> 
> I also really wanted to try and do something different with Jack. I see him into drug dealing and such a lot in AUs, and I wanted something that still went against the mainstream world, but was more...innocent, I guess. We ended up with multimedia contemporary artist. I don't even know how we got there.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce woke up early the next day and settled into te parlor with a cup of coffee and his cell phone. He wanted to call Jack- he wanted to _see_ him. The gallery had given them precious few moments together- and even though he said he needed to take this slow, he knew he’d get no where if he didn’t see- or at least talk to- the young man.

It was about nine when he called, curling up and pulling on the fabric of his black sweatpants nervously. The phone rang for a bit, and he was afraid it was going to go straight to voice mail, when a tired voice finally answered, “Hello?”

“Hey,” Bruce said, and he could hear the sleepy smile on Jack’s face as he spoke.

“Hey there sugar.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah,” Jack admitted, and Bruce could hear him roll around for a second to get comfortable, “But it’s okay, someone had to. I was at the gallery until around two.”

“Jesus,” Bruce said, “Go back to sleep then, I can call back some other-“

“No way.” He sounded more alert now. “Not a chance babe, I’m up now.” Bruce bit his lip, mind going to a dangerous place where Jack was up in a _different_ sense, and he cursed himself, because he wasn’t ready for that.

Right?

“Are you busy today? I was sort of hoping we could...hang out for a little while.” Bruce felt like he sounded like a teenager, but it really was true. He just wanted to spend some time with Jack.

“As a matter of fac-t,” Jack said, “I’m totally free, and would _love_ to see you, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled at that, felt the tightness in his chest back as he ran his fingers along his own leg- could feel Jack’s fingers instead.

It was around eleven when Bruce left to pick Jack up. He’d showered, and spent an agonizingly long amount of time staring in the mirror, fixing his short dark hair and making sure he looked alright. Jeans, black t-shirt, casual gray jacket- once it wouldn’t have mattered, but now Bruce wondered if he looked good enough. Like he wanted to impress.

He’d barely pulled up to the curb when Jack was walking out of his apartment complex, his hair a mess of gorgeous free curls, his signature skinny jeans and purple high tops present. Bruce smiled when he got in the car.

“Hey,” he said, and Jack smiled back.

“Hi cupcake.” He closed the door and fixed one of the sleeves of his green plaid button down- it was trying to unroll from his elbow, and Bruce took a moment to look at his chest, frame by a tight v-neck under the shirt, the upper half purple, the lower inky black. Somehow Jack always looked so casually gorgeous.

What really caught Bruce though was the expensive looking camera hanging from his neck. Jack saw his gaze before Bruce turned to the road and pulled into traffic, and traced along the camera’s edge.

“I figure, if we’re going for a casual walk, it’d be good to have,” he admitted, “you never know what you’ll see. And I’d hate to find and then lose inspiration. It’s the worst feeling.”

Bruce just nodded. He didn’t know about that, but he didn’t mind the camera. It made this seem a bit less awkward, if Jack had a reason to b in Gotham’s central park. Bruce just thought it had been a nice idea- a public space so he couldn’t find himself in any sort of situation he wasn’t ready for- not that he thought Jack would purposely put him in one, but he wasn’t trusting his own self conscious at this point- and it gave them no real distractions so if they wanted to really _talk_ , they could.

They parked the car and walked down the block to the park, crossed the street and stepped onto the paved path that wove its way between the lush green grass and tall trees. They could hear children laughing at the playground in the distance, various people sitting on the benches that dotted the area.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Jack said, brushing the curls out of his face that the wind blew. “I forgot how pretty it was.”

“I’d think you’d be here a lot,” Bruce said, taking a deep breath of fresh spring air as they walked at a lazy pace. “Being an artist and all.” Jack shook his head.

“Nah. I tend to stick to more industrial topics- or people. Nature never really did too much for me, but I dunno now. It’s rather pretty. Or maybe it’s just ‘cause I’m here with you.” He reached out and took Bruce’s hand, smiling- and Bruce figured he should have had some retort waiting, some way to brush the sweetness off because they were just friends and that made it seem like there was more.

Instead he squeezed Jack’s hand, and watched him raise his camera and snap a shot of a few of the trees.

The park itself was rather large, though most visitor didn’t go past the first half where the playground stood. Bruce was watching some of the kids playing idly as Jack snapped a few more photos, when suddenly he heard, “Hey Bruce, over here!”

He turned to Jack and heard the camera click. He laughed, reaching out towards him as it clicked again. “Stop!” he said, grabbing him by the side of his shirt and pulling him over, one more click going off before Jack dropped it and let it hang from his neck as he was hoisted into Bruce’s arms. He was laughing too, and he leaned his forehead against Bruce's chest as he tried to compose himself, closed his eyes and focused on Bruce’s heat and the way his chest moved when he breathed.

Bruce was stroking the curve of his waist, chuckling himself. When Jack looked up with those green eyes though, he stopped, watched those lips part as he breathed, and remembered what they tasted like.

He wanted them again.

Jack saw it in Bruce’s eyes, tried to lean up, but Bruce turned his head slightly and released Jack. “Hey, let’s grab some ice cream,” he said, heading towards the cart he saw in the distance, and Jack sighed, walking along behind him.

Despite the thwarted kiss though, Jack was happy with the ice cream cone Bruce bought him. He licked at the chocolate as they settled down on a bench, further down the path so the populated portions of the park were just a splotch in the distance.

“So how long have you been doing your art?” Bruce asked in between licks of vanilla. He felt like a kid sitting here, but it was nice. He liked that calm, warmness Jack caused in him- despite that he thought he should be nervous, it was hard to actually feel it.

“Since I was about sixteen,” Jack said. “I started doing minor stuff then, mostly just sketches and scribblings. When I moved out at seventeen, I crashed with Harley and she told me I should get serious. By the time I was twenty I had a small collection, and I was featured in a few local shows. Nothing like Oswald’s place, though. But five years later, here I am. It just sort of blew up once my work got out there.”

“You lived with Harley?” Bruce asked, and Jack nodded.

“Yeah. She was there for me when I needed her- opened up her home to me and everything. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for her.” If there was more to the story, Jack didn’t offer it. Bruce wanted to ask, but something about those eyes, the way they seemed so focused on the remains of Jack’s ice cream cone and not on _him_ or the world around him, told Bruce not to push it. Not today.

_Maybe it has something to do with those scars_.

They finished their ice cream and just sat there together, listening to the wind and the birds and in the very faint distance the sounds of kids and people. Bruce watched the dots move in the distance, while Jack peered through his lens, examining the world with different eyes. He turned on the bench, then began to scramble up onto his knees, the sound of the shutter on the camera working furiously making Bruce look behind him as well.

“What?” he asked, and Jack pointed at a set of Cardinals sitting in a tree together.

“The red,” he said, “it’s glorious against everything else.” He shifted a bit, before without any warning he climbed over Bruce, straddling him and leaning past him to get a different angle. Bruce made a sound, but instead of pushing Jack off steadied him by the waist as he leaned further.

“God, don’t knock us both over,” Bruce said, and Jack settled back down, laughing.

“Sorry, I just want to make sure I’ve got shots of them. That red... I could use it, I know I could.” He smiled, looking at Bruce, and he stroked the artist’s waist, moving his hand down to his hip. Jack carefully let his camera hang at his neck, running his hands over Bruce’s chest- mumbling something about liking this new seat, and Bruce just smiled.

When he kissed Bruce, he wasn’t prepared. Jack was fast- it came out of no where- one moment Bruce was staring at those pretty eyes, and the next that mouth was assaulting his and he was dizzy and gripping onto Jack’s hip to steady himself. Jack wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck and pressed his pelvis into him, closed the gap as much as he could around the obstacle his camera created.

Bruce wrapped both arms around him as he tipped his head back and opened his mouth. Jack tasted like chocolate, his mouth cold where Bruce remembered it was warm- yet he could be back on the man’s couch, pressing into him and delving into that warmth, letting it spread through his body.

Jack kissed Bruce like no one had. He lacked a rhythm sometimes, he just moved and _reacted_ and Bruce loved the unpredictability. He opened him up like Talia never could, like no woman ever had. He made Bruce feel vulnerable, but it didn’t matter because it was _Jack_ and he was too infatuated with Bruce to ever let anyone see the weakness. It was for him, only.

“Bruce,” he whispered against his lips, his tongue tracing the lower one gently. “Tell me to stop.”

“What?” Bruce whispered, before _he_ closed the gap and kissed Jack, not wanting to lose the connection. His sanity was gone, and he didn’t care that they were in public- that Jack was a man and Bruce _swore_ he hadn’t been interested- he just wanted that mouth that was warming up, the feeling of his belly being in knots, his chest tight yet fluttery. He wanted it all.

“Tell me to stop,” Jack whispered between kisses, sinking his hands into Bruce’s hair as one of Bruce’s hands glided down his spine, cupped his ass and Jack _moaned_ and Bruce felt it jolt through him like electricity. “Or I won’t stop. I’ll never stop.”

_I’ll never stop_.

Bruce didn’t want him to stop, and the realization made him shake. He clung to Jack tighter, kissed him harder, until Jack was shaking too, about to burst with everything he was taking in.

“S-stop,” Bruce whimpered against that mouth, not because he wanted to, but because he _had_ to. This wasn’t the place- this wasn’t taking it slow. He didn’t want to dive in, only to realize he couldn’t swim and leave Jack treading water alone.

Jack pulled back the moment Bruce spoke, his cheeks flushed, and looked away. Bruce slipped his hands higher, until one reached up and stroked some of Jack’s hair.

“This isn’t a good place,” he said, offering him the sweetest smile he could- because those green eyes looked so sad.

“Yeah,” Jack admitted, but Bruce still felt something in his chest crack.

Jack found it hard to sleep that night. He tossed and turned in his bed, clung to his pillow but Bruce’s scent was faded, tangled his legs in his blanket but it wasn’t enough. He wanted that solid body next to him again, wanted Bruce’s heat and presence and overall perfection to lull him into sleep.

Instead, he got up, took a look at the clock, which read midnight, and walked over to one of his easels, set up by the window. He pulled one curtain open so streetlight flooded in and picked up his brush, sucking on his lower lip as he set to work lining that perfect jawline in black- those lips he could still feel, tinting them the perfect fleshy pink.

Bruce settled back into his chair at the bar, sipping on his scotch, smiling as Dick talked. He was going on about the latest act for his modern circus, and Bruce was somewhat amused- though his mind had been elsewhere the whole day.

He’d wanted to see Jack, but a day at the office limited his time, and he’d promised to grab a drink or two with Dick. So here he sat, wondering what the man was up to. He’d sent him a few texts, but he hadn’t gotten a response back yet.

“You should come see a show, Bruce,” Dick was saying as he finished his drink. “The circus will be in town for a few nights of the tour.” When he didn’t respond, Dick gave him a sly smile. “Why don’t you bring Jack? You know, I bet he’d like it. It’s right up his ally- I mean, we;re Cirque du Soleil, just _better_.”

Bruce tapped his fingers, thought on it.

“Friday night,” Dick said, and Bruce gave him a soft smile.

“I’ll ask him.”

Jack sat under the hot midday sun the next day, sipping at his raspberry lemonade as Harley picked at her sandwich. “You’re not even into that sort of science,” he was saying, leaning back, pushing his sunglasses up higher. It was too bright for him- he hadn’t left his apartment since he returned Sunday afternoon. He’d been so enthralled by his work, he actually forgot to eat. Harley had let herself in- with the key he’d given her when he first moved in- and had nearly had a fit. While she supported his art, she wasn’t interested in him becoming a hermit or going malnourished.

“Well, I mean, it might be interesting-“

“But really, you want to go because it’s Dr. Isley.” Harley shrugged a shoulder, and Jack grinned. He knew the doctor Harley had brought up when they sat down to lunch- he’d seen her before at other talks she gave that Harley had dragged him to. She was into plants- far from the science of the mind Harley studied. But then again, this wasn’t about the topic of the speech-

It was about Harley’s little crush, which Jack found positively adorable.

“Oh, fine,” he said, “I’ll go with you tomorrow afternoon. But only because I love you, pumpkin.” He winked, and she giggled.

“Oh Puddin’, I love you too.” And when she smiled Jack knew it was true- she was a mirror of him, and she loved him because she loved herself, and that was alright. He loved her just the same.

When he got back to his apartment and checked his phone, he saw he had a missed call from Bruce. He’d texted Jack a few times, but Jack had been so engrossed he hadn’t responded. The mix of heart ache at Bruce’s slight rejection, coupled with the hope that _it was just bad placement_ had left him wanting to create. He couldn’t deny that urge.

Still, he felt bad about not responding. And now he’d even called. Jack could just call him back, but he felt like he needed to do _more_.

So he headed back out the door and caught the bus heading for inner Gotham.

Wayne Enterprises was not a hard building to find. In fact, it stood out so much so that it was nearly painful. Jack stared up at it for a moment, tried to picture it in the dark Gotham his head was creating, and saw broken windows and rusted metal and a man with a mask peering down in shame at the city.

He shook his head and walked inside. The air conditioner hit him full on and he shivered, shoving his hands in his pockets. Now, he just had to figure out where Bruce was.

He walked casually towards the elevator- standing out among everyone and their suits, but no one was looking at him. Jack was invisible- but he wasn’t unused to that. He reached out and ran his finger along a small directory- but it didn’t list names, only general titles grouping multiple people together. Nowhere did it say “The man who owns you all,” so he was stuck shifting from foot to foot, lost.

When a teenage stepped up and hit the up arrow on the elevator, he turned and smiled.

“Hey, do you know which floor Bruce Wayne is on?” The boy looked at him, all wide amber eyes and short dark hair. He had a cute face.

“He’s on the eleventh floor,” he said, shifting the papers he was holding in his arms. “But you can’t see him without an appointment. You can’t see _anyone_ without an appointment- _especially_ him.”

Jack clicked his tongue and pushed his curls back. “I’m a friend,” he started, and felt the boy’s eyes running along his cheeks, along his scars. He pushed the curls back into his face to hide them.

“Wait...are you Jack Napier?” Jack raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Oh my god, your work is amazing! What are you doing here? This is one of the last places I’d expect to see you.”

“Like I said, Bruce is a ...friend,” Jack said with a smile. “So, eleventh floor, right...”

“Tim,” the boy said, “Tim Drake. And yeah, eleventh floor. I’m heading up now, this paperwork is for him. I’m interning here.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“My classes are all in the morning so I can do this.” The elevator finally came, and Tim climbed on, Jack following and hitting the 11 for him. Tim nodded his thanks. “Like I said though, you need an appointment, usually. The secretary won’t let you through. She’s a real bitch.” He shifted again. “Are you really Mr. Wayne’s friend?”

“On my honor,” Jack said, and Tim smiled.

“Then follow my lead, and there might be hope.”

They got off on the eleventh floor and walked through the busy halls, Jack following Tim. When they turned into one room, Jack saw an older woman sitting at a desk, typing away. They walked quietly, but just as they were about to turn the corner, she looked up.

“Tim,” she said, and they froze. “Who is this?”

“This is Jack,” he said, “He’s here to see Mr. Wayne.” She ran her eyes over Jack- over ripped skinny jeans and his faded vermilion t-shirt and open black button down. Then she _tsked_. “You cannot see Mr. Wayne without an appointment.”

“He has one,” Tim said, “it’s just not in the books. He’s an artist, you see, and Mr. Wayne asked me to track him down. Dick Grayson is a fan, and Mr. Wayne wanted to discuss having a piece of work commissioned for Mr. Grayson.”

The woman hesitated, then waved her hand and looked back at her computer. Tim and Jack hurried down the hall, and when they were out of ear shot Jack said, rather awe struck,

“How did you know Dick’s a fan?”

“You hear a lot fo things when you work as an intern. Everyone forgets you exist, or have ears. Have you met Mr. Grayson?”

“He came to my last exhibit with Bruce.” Tim nodded as they stopped at a door.

“I wish I could have gone. I’ve always wanted to see your work displayed- it’s so amazing.” Tim sighed. “This is it. I’ve got to give him these papers, but then I’ll leave you two alone.”

“I won’t forget this, Tim,” Jack said, smiling and ruffling his hair. Tim blushed, then opened the door and stepped in. Bruce was sitting at his desk, intently reading a contract.

“Just put the papers on the desk, Tim,” he said without looking up, and Tim did as he was asked. He was almost to the door when Jack cleared his throat, and Bruce looked up to see his smiling face.

“Hey sugar.”

Bruce smiled, and Tim crept out- sure now that Jack had been telling the truth. Jack walked over to the desk, leaning his hip against it and tracing his fingers along the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“I was starting to think you dropped off the Earth of something,” Bruce admitted, setting the contract aside. “You didn’t respond to my texts, didn’t answer my call.”

“Sorry,” Jack said, “I was really into my work yesterday. Forgot to even eat. Harley barged into my apartment this morning and forced me to lunch, I missed your call while we were out. I figured I should make it up to you by coming and explaining in person. Besides,” he said, voice lowering a little, “I missed you.”

Bruce smiled and pushed his chair out, and Jack giggled and settled onto his lap, leaning his back against one of the arms. Bruce considered locking the door, to make sure no one saw- even though he meant it innocently, it still looked compromising- but he didn’t want to move Jack. He wrapped an arm around him to steady him.

“I missed you too,” Bruce admitted, “but how the hell did you get in here?”

“Your little intern Tim helped me. He’s a fan, apparently. Quick with a good lie, too- I like it. Good attention to detail. I’m going to get that kid something as thanks.” Bruce chuckled, leaned forward and nuzzled into Jack’s hair. Okay, _now_ it was compromising. Jack smiled and played with the collar to his shirt.

He didn’t know what to make of Bruce, really. The man was so eager and affectionate- but there was always something holding him back. Jack tried to make himself believe he was just getting over whatever her name was- that he needed time.

Time was the one thing Jack had.

“I have a meeting in twenty minutes,” Bruce admitted, “otherwise, I’d ask if you’d like to stay and get dinner with me.”

Jack giggled. “You know Brucie, you make that sound like a date.” Bruce blushed a little, let his lips glide over Jack’s neck.

“In that case,” he said, “Come out with me Friday night. Dick invited us to see his circus, they’ll be in Gotham. I swear it won’t be a clowns-crammed-into-a-car type of circus.”

Jack laughed at that, ran his fingers over Bruce’s cheek.

“It’s a date,” he said and leaned in, kissing Bruce gently- and Bruce let him, one hand sinking into his curls to steady him. A date was slow enough, Bruce was sure.

Besides, he couldn’t content himself with drinks forever. If he didn’t try for the next step, he’d never know if it was too much- _or not enough_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm really taking some liberties in this with ages and such, and altering Dick's canon story line a bit- but eh, that's what AUs are for!


	5. Chapter 5

Jack tried to stay attentive as Dr. Isley addressed the crowded lecture hall at Gotham University, but it was hard. To begin, he had no real interest in the subject- he was only here to keep Harley company, who was currently enthralled by the woman’s voice, eyes taking in every slight hand movement, every flick of her eyes. Second, his mind was so full of Bruce, it was hard to fit anything else in there.

They had a date. A real, true date. Bruce hadn’t objected to Jack calling it such- and that alone made Jack giddy. It was a step in the direction he wanted. It was a chance for him to get under Bruce’s skin until neither could tell where one ended, and the other began.

He’d told Harley about it when she picked up him, and despite her own enthusiasm about seeing Pamela Isley speak, she had been able to take in just how much this meant to Jack, and had given him a soft smile and a squeeze of the hand- though something in her eyes had told him she’d have more to say later- when she wasn’t in her own love sick high.

After the speech, they filed out of the large lecture hall and stepped outside into the rather warm sun, Harley smiling in a way Jack rarely saw.

“So maybe you should ask her to get coffee or something,” Jack said. Harley shook her head.

“No, _oh no_. She’s such a busy woman, she wouldn’t have time! And what would we talk about? I couldn’t keep a conversation about plants going with her- you know that’s not my field at all.”

“You could listen,” Jack offered, but Harley only shook her head.

“No, there’s just no chance-“

“Excuse me.” Harley stopped and the two turned- met a pair of green eyes and smiling, thick red lips. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to introduce myself.” She held her dainty hand out, nails a shade of red that reminded Jack of the Cardinal. “I’m Pamela Isley- I’ve seen you at my talks before.”

Harley stared at the hand offered to her a moment, before she took it and shook- her body trembling slightly.

“Oh Dr. Isley! It’s...it’s-“

“A pleasure to meet you,” Jack offered from behind Harley. Pamela smiled.

“Oh please, call me Pam.”

“Pam,” Harley whispered, and Jack moved up next to her, shaking Pam’s hand as well.

“It’s nice to meet you. Harley is quite a fan, I don’t think she’s missed a lecture you’ve offered here all year.” Pam smiled at Harley, even though Jack was speaking.

“I thought I had seen you at every talk. So attentive, it’s very refreshing. Are you part of the botany studies here at the University?”

“Oh, no,” Harley admitted, “I’m in the Psychology department, actually. Ph.D candidate. But you talk so passionately about your work, I find I keep coming back. It’s nice to see someone so interested and invested in what they do.”

Pam smiled and tossed her red hair. “Well thank you, Harley. You know, I could use someone to bounce some ideas off of regarding some pheromones and their psychological effects. What are the chances you’d want to get coffee with me someday and have a chat?”

Jack thought he was going to have to reach out and grab Harley to keep her from shooting up into the air. She grinned like a fool.

“Oh, I’d love to!” she exclaimed, and Pam’s smile broadened as she pulled out her cell phone and asked for Harley’s number.

Jack felt nearly high as he paced his apartment Friday evening, waiting for Bruce to come get him. He hadn’t been sure how to dress- he knew it wasn’t some _fancy_ occasion, but he still wasn’t sure if his jeans would be too... casual. In the end he’d gone with a dark pair of skinny jeans regardless because he really didn’t own anything that _wasn ‘t_ casual- that was just who he was.

He tugged on his purple and green striped jacket, took one last peek at his hair, before he headed out to wait outside. The sun had just set, so even though it was dark it was still warm, and Jack watched the lights flicker around the street, was greeted by a couple walking by who had been at his last exhibit, even waved at one of his neighbors as she headed out for a night shift.

When a car pulled up along the curb, Jack took a deep breath and steadied himself. The back passenger door opened and Bruce stepped out, smiling at him, and Jack walked over, trying to keep from shaking. Bruce reached for him and pulled him into a hug that Jack melted into, pressing to his chest and smelling his cologne and wanting to drown in it.

Bruce held the door for him and then crawled in next to him. When the door shut the car began moving, the privacy screen lowered and a pair of gray, all seeing eyes glancing back at the two through the mirror.

“Jack,” Bruce said, “this is Alfred.” He gestured towards the driver. “He...basically raised me, so I guess this is the equivalent of meeting my parents?”

“Oh, we’re getting serious then,” Jack said, and Alfred smiled, stifling a laugh. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Alfred said, “and the pleasure is all mine.” He gave Bruce a glance, before continuing, “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for conversation some other night. How about a little privacy?”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Alfred nodded and hit a button, and the privacy screen went up- leaving Bruce and Jack blissfully alone.

Jack contemplated taking advantage of it with a few flirty caresses, but Bruce was faster. He reached for Jack and pulled him nearly onto his lap, lips crashing into his exquisitely. Jack groaned- caught off guard- and reached for Bruce’s shirt to clutch it. Bruce’s hand was tracing his back, gripping his ass and making Jack fidget.

“Tease,” he breathed out against his lips, and Bruce laughed.

“What can I say? You bring with deviant out in me.” He grinned, and Jack settled against his chest while Bruce stroked his hair for the remainder of the ride.

The show was in the flashier part of Gotham- the expensive part- and Jack felt out of place as they climbed out of the car and walked towards the forum. They were allowed in right away, the usher smiling and greeting Bruce very joyously- Jack going unnoticed, but he didn’t expect to be seen by strangers.

The carpets were plush under Jack’s high tops, and Bruce let him clutch his hand as they walked towards their seating area- one of the center balconies, reserved for Dick and any of his guests, since he owned the circus.

“Bruce!” Dick said when they entered. He was sitting in his chair with a glass of champagne, talking to Jason when they had entered. Jason gave them a nod, and Jack offered the sullen young man a small wave. Jason smiled at that-

Neither of them really belonged in this world.

“Good of you to come,” Dick said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “And Jack! It’s a pleasure- come, sit down. Would you like a drink? I hope you’re going to like the show- I really think it’s right in your field of interest.”

Jack wasn’t sure for a moment if Dick would ever stop to breathe- but he smiled because this was Bruce’s very best friend, and he was a fan of Jack’s work- and he’d been nothing but nice. He was pretty- he had a soft face, that feathery hair- and it helped, too- Jack could admit.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Jack said with a smile, and Bruce squeezed his shoulder and took Dick by the shoulder, leading him away to discuss something. The moment they were gone, Jack slumped into a chair with a sigh, and Json snickered.

“Hard work being arm candy, isn’t it.” He poured a rather full glass of champagne and handed it to Jack. “Sorry it’s nothing harder. They like to keep things ‘classy’ in this place.” Jack smiled and took a sip, the bubbles tickling his nose. “The show will start soon, and I promise, Dick won’t talk non-stop through it. He’s really excited for all of us to see the new acts.”

“I never saw the originals,” Jack admitted. “I couldn’t afford it.”

“A popular artist like you, I’d think you could.” Jack shrugged a shoulder and sipped the champagne again.

“I don’t charge a lot for my work. I want everyone to enjoy it, which means print prices stay low. And I rarely sell my originals. That way I can put them on display whenever I want, and everyone can enjoy the originals.”

“How noble of you.” Jason leaned forward, examining Jack’s face, eyes tracing those scars along his cheeks. “You’re probably too sweet for a rich boy like Bruce.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you seem like a decent human being.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and Jack watched the little blonde bits in the front fall back against his forehead. “And probably too good for someone like Bruce Wayne.”

“Bruce is a nice guy,” Jack said, frowning. Shouldn’t Jason say _good_ things about Bruce, if he was dating his best friend?

“Most of the time,” Jason admitted, “But no always. I’m not saying he’s some cruel asshole- but he’s got a brooding problem. This thing with Talia, they go on and off for years, and you know what? He never learns. Maybe you’ll finally knock some sense into him.” He took a long gulp on his champagne, wishing it was something stronger, darker. “For my sake alone, I hope so. I’m sick to death of hearing Dick talk about how Bruce needs to get over the bitch.”

Jack didn’t respond, just sat there listening. He’d never actually heard her name before- though he knew who Jason meant. _Talia_.

“I’m not trying to get you to back off on Bruce or anything,” Jason continued, “Just... warning you, I guess. We’re similar, you and I. We don’t have money. I’ve worked my ass off most of my life in order to get by- it wasn’t until Dick and I got really serious that life got easy. And if he got sick of me? I’d be up shit creek, kid.” He drained the remaining champagne from the glass. “And I know you work hard to keep yourself afloat. We’re in a different world from Dick and Bruce- they don’t quite get it. I can’t just fault them for it, they grew up with privilage- but it’ll always be there.”

Jack watched a few of the bubbles in his champagne pop. He didn’t fault Jason for what he was saying- it was true. He was in a different world from Bruce- but he didn’t mind. So far the differences hadn’t gotten in the way.

Dick and Bruce were walking back then, and Jason contented himself with another glass of champagne and Dick leaning over to giggle something into his ear and nuzzle his neck affectionately. There was something in his baby blue eyes- Jack saw it- a moment of doubt, and he wondered if Jason lived with doubt day in and day out that Dick would keep him forever.

Jason had been right when he said Dick wouldn’t speak through out the entire show. The moment the lights dimmed he didn’t say a word, and kept his mouth shut until there was an intermission. Even then, he seemed to be contemplating silence over how the audience was reacting to his latest creation.

Jason had turned to offer Jack another glass of champagne- which he accepted- when Bruce pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and slipped out from their seats. Jack was sipping at the alcohol when he turned back and saw Bruce leaving. He looked back at Jason, who shrugged a shoulder.

The phone rang twice before she picked up, offering out a smooth, “Bruce.”

“You called me three times,” he said, “Is everything okay with-“

“Oh, fine.” She sounded too calm, too smooth for his liking. “I’m coming back to Gotham. I thought you should know.”

He swallowed. No. _No, no, no_.

“Oh,” was all he said, and he heard her scuff.

“I thought you’d be a bit more excited, darling. I’ll call you when I’m in town- we can get a drink, talk. I know you’ve been dying to talk.”

“Listen, I-“

“Bruce?”

Bruce turned around in the empty hallway, saw Jack standing a few feet away, fingers playing with the long sleeves of his purple pullover sweater. Bruce swallowed, and heard against his ear,

“I’ll see you soon, Bruce.” And then the line went dead. He slipped the phone quickly into his pocket as Jack walked over.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” _No_. But Bruce wouldn’t mention her- she was fickle, she was probably lying. He wouldn’t worry Jack- just focus on him, and Talia would disappear.

Bruce needed the distraction. He reached out and got Jack by the wrist, pulling him over and kissing him swiftly. Jack melted into it, reached up and wrapped an arm around Bruce’s neck as his mouth was open and Bruce tasted the champagne on his tongue.

Jack was spun around in one fluid motion and pressed to the wall. He gasped, felt Bruce bite his lower lip, before he was wrapping his arms lower on his waist and hoisting him up. Jack give a small surprised cry, back pressed to the wall, and wrapped his legs around Bruce’s waist for support.

“B-Bruce,” he whimpered, lips on his neck and Bruce’s teeth in his skin. He groaned and dug his hips into Bruce- suddenly hard and blushing and shocked and _what had gotten into Bruce_?

“No one’s going to see,” Bruce whispered, as if that was what might be worrying Jack. Far from it- Jack was more concerned as to what brought this on. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was hard not to- not when Bruce was so guarded, when the most Jack got was a kiss, and now he was pinned against the wall and the sound in Bruce’s voice shook him to his core and made him feel like Bruce was prying open his entire body.

He kissed Bruce’s mouth and tried to push his thoughts down- wanted to just enjoy it. He wanted Bruce- he’d wanted him since he had a taste, but he never pushed it. It was enough to have his company, to get those stray strings of kisses that rushed his blood. But he had other needs, and they were growing harder and harder to ignore when he thought of the man-

He was almost ashamed at how often he was left with his hand sticky and guilty thoughts of how he’d just used Bruce for his own satisfaction. But the man was utterly _divine_ and Jack couldn’t resist. He was a drug, and Jack was hooked- an addict for life, now.

He’d have Bruce for life, somehow.

He was clawing at Bruce’s back as their tongues danced, Bruce groaning here and there into his mouth. If they had been listening they would hear the applause, see the dimming lights, and know that the show was beginning again. But there was just the two of them, and no other world.

Bruce stroked along one of Jack’s scars and Jack quaked.

“I need you,” he whimpered, then and there he didn’t care- and it was _so_ tempting for Bruce, but he heard Dick’s voice in the distance calling, and the two were pulled back to reality.

They parted, gasping for breath, and Bruce was quick to let Jack down, who untangled himself clumsily and had to lean against the wall for support. Bruce took a step back, straightened his hair, and turned to smile just in time as his friend appeared in the hallway.

“Coming Dick,” he called, and began walking towards him. Jack reached out and clutched at the wall with one hand, shaking, not sure what had just happened. He didn’t move until Bruce was gone, and he had closed his eyes to try and compose himself and remind his legs how to move.

When the show was over and they were leaving, the night was dark and heavy, and had an odd chill to the air. Jack shivered and tried to walk close to Bruce as they stepped outside, he and Dick talking about some of Gotham’s socialites who had shown up for the show.

“What did you think of the show, Jack? Dick asked as they stopped by the curb, and Jack smiled.

“It was lovely, Dick. Thanks so much for inviting me.” And it was true- though Jack had been able to focus on the first half more than the second. By the smirk on Jason’s face, the man seemed to sense something was up. Or maybe he was just enjoying staring at Jack- he wans’t sure. Jack didn’t know how that heated blue gaze made him feel.

“We’ll get together again,” Bruce said as Alfred pulled up, and waved his hand at the man to keep him from getting out of the car to get the doors. The two couples exchanged their good-byes and Bruce and Jack climbed into the back seat, greeting Alfred and entertaining his questions on the show as they drove through Gotham’s night traffic.

Jack stayed rather quiet on the drive back to his apartment, speaking to thank Alfred very politely for driving him, and following Bruce inside as they walked up to his apartment.

Jack stuck his key in the door, then hesitated, worried his lower lip for a second, and turned.

“Do you wanna come in?” he asked. “You could stay the night. I mean, tomorrow is Saturday and all-“

“Maybe another night,” Bruce said, and his eyes looked distracted. Jack sighed- not entirely sure what was happening.

“Then thanks for taking me out,” Jack offered, twisting the knob and opening the door behind him. He leaned up and kissed Bruce’s cheek, who smiled at him- god his smile got Jack right in the chest- and whispered a sweet good-night.

Jack closed the door, locked it, and waited until he heard Bruce walking away before he closed his eyes and lost it, body shaking. Something had happened that night, and he wasn’t sure what. Had Bruce realized he wasn’t as interested in Jack as he thought he was? Had he changed his mind and realized that he just couldn’t find an attraction to Jack?

Had Jack messed up?

He was furious to know he was crying, tears tickling his scars, and he wiped them on the back of his sweater and stalked towards his bedroom. He had intended to paint that night if he couldn’t get Bruce to stay- but in that moment, he wanted to take a lighter to his work, and he was ashamed of that.

He didn’t want to be near himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in canon we'd never see Joker and Jason having any sort of connection- but they just seemed to work in this AU :)


	6. Chapter 6

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to turn around, Master Bruce? I can come get you in the morning.”

“No Alfred- please, just take me home.”

Aside of that, there was no conversation between the two on the way back to the Penthouse. In fact, Alfred did not speak again until they were in the elevator, on their way up.

“Master Bruce, Jack seems like a nice fellow. It would do you good to spend some time with him. I do think you should have stayed.”

“She called, Alfred.” The door opened and they stepped off, and Alfred’s face dropped. “Said she’s coming back to Gotham.”

“So this is about Miss Talia.”

“Of course,” Bruce said, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s always about her. Goddamn _always_. I was okay, Alfred. I was accepting that she was gone and I didn’t need her, and now she calls and wants to see me _and what the hell do I do_?”

“It’s simple, sir,” Alfred said, “you say no.” He crossed his arms, watching Bruce as he looked away. “There is no law in this universe, sir, that says you must obey Miss Talia.”

“But what about-“

“We will get him back, sir. Don’t worry.” Bruce sighed. “But that is not why you’re willing, and you know that. Let her go, Bruce. I do believe, sir, you’ve found something better.”

Bruce sighed as Alfred walked away, needing a _very_ stiff drink.

Jack woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He groaned and reached blindly for it, pulling it to his ear and mumbling a hello, his face still pressed into the pillow.

“Are you still sleeping?” He didn’t say anything at the cheery voice. “Jackie, it’s like noon. Were you out late?”

“No Harley,” he mumbled, and he could tell she was frowning.

“You never sleep this late, unless something is wrong.” A moment of silence. “Have you gotten out of bed at all?” More silence. “Jack. Jack, go take your pills.”

Jack sighed and hoisted himself up, dragging himself out of bed and trudging to the kitchen. Harley listened as he rummaged around, ran the tap, and swallowed all his pills.

“Good now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “They’re all down. Sorry Harley, I’m just really tired. Maybe I’m a bit sick.” She sighed.

“I’m not going to pry, but only because I’m on my way out and I don’t have time right now. But I’ll be calling you later. I’ve got a lunch date with Pam.”

“Date?” Jack gave a soft smile at that, his voice perking up.

“Well, okay, we didn’t call it a date. Just a get together, to talk...”

“Maybe you’ll break your dry spell, Harley,” he said with a sarcastic laugh, and she huffed.

“You’re an ass. Get some rest, I’ll call you later Puddin’.”

“Ay ay, Captain Pumpkin.”

Harley sighed and stuffed her phone away, hoping into her car and driving to the little cafe where she was supposed to meet Pam. She walked in and around to their outdoor tables, saw her sipping on an iced tea and reading something on her phone. Harley took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her jeans- her palms were beginning to sweat- and walked over, smiling and sitting down. Pamela looked up and returned her smile.

“Hello Harley,” she said, tucking her phone away, “thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for the invite,” Harley said, as a waiter came over and took her order for a pink lemonade. She sipped at it as Pamela and her began their academic talk- Pam asking questions she had no answer to involving psychology, and scribbling down Harley’s answers- who in turn asked why she would need each answer, giving Pamela a chance to delve into her plants.

The conversaton slowly turned away from such scholarly matters, though, turning to “how long have you been studying at Gotham University?” “What are your future plans?”, and, finally, “How’s the love life?”

Harley blushed and Pam just laughed. “Sorry, too personal?”

“N-no,” Harley admitted, drumming her fingers on the table once, twice. “No, it’s not. And it’s dead. Been dead for a while. Haven’t dated anyone serious in God knows how long.”

“What about that guy you were with?”

“Jack? He’s just a friend. Not quite a brother- I’d be lying if I said we never slept together, honestly- but he’s not a lover, but more than a friend. Jack’s just _complicated_.”

“Sounds like it. So why no relationship? You two are obviously close.”

“Jack’s not into women,” Harley said, “at least, not usually. I was a bit of an exception- and we were drunk and lonely and he was just in a really bad place at the time. I think I was someone he could trust, and he didn’t have that before. But there’s nothing romantic there. I won’t lie, I hoped for a while, and I think he hoped too- but we couldn’t force it. We’re just the best of friends. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Harley blushed then. “Oh God! I’m sorry, I’m sure you didn’t want to hear all that.”

Pamela laughed. “Oh, don’t blush hun. How can I get to know you if you don’t tell me things?” She reached out and laid her hand over Harley’s, and Harley blushed more, staring at those elegant fingers, the long red nails, and when she looked up Pamela was giving her a soft, warm gaze that made her smile and her chest tighten until her heart simply burst.

Harley hadn’t wanted to ever leave that table, but Pamela had a meeting that evening, so after a few hours of blissful conversation, she was walking back to her car. She pulled her phone out and called Jack, waiting as the phone rang three times before he picked up.

“What’s up Pumpkin?” He sounded better.

“Only my spirits, Puddin’. You decent? I’d like to come over.”

“I suppose I can put pants on for you.” They laughed, and she felt more relieved.

She knocked on Jack’s door twice, then unlocked it herself and walked in, stuffing her key back in her purse and walked towards the living room. Jack was standing in front of an array of easels, painting.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said without looking, and for a moment Harley felt a twinge in her chest- like this was something that could be.

“Hey Puddin’,” She set her purse down and walked closer, looking at the painting he was working on. “Is that...Bruce?”

Jack nodded.

“What’s the mask?”

“He’s turning into a Bat,” Jack offered, “he’s a Bat-Man. I thought it suited him- he is so mysterious and has that dark-and-handsome look.”

“You come up with some weird stuff, Jack.” She turned to the other piece- a set of green eyes staring at her with question marks in them, and frowned. “Jack...are you really going to finish this one? I thought, after-“

“It’s art. I’m going to finish it.” He set his brush down. Harely didn’t say anything, just walked over to the couch and sat down.

“So, how’s Bruce anyway? How’d the date go?”

“Alright,” Jack offered, moving one of the easels closer to the wall. “It went alright. I haven’t heard from him since- but you know, he’s busy and all.” He looked away,a dn Harley frowned, she could hear the sadness.

“What happened?” A sigh, and then Jack settled on the couch next to her and told her about it- from Jason’s banter to Bruce pinning him to the wall- to breaking down at the door when Bruce left. She was frowning by the time he was done, running her finger tips along his arm.

“I didn’t need to break down,” Jack said with a shrug. “I mean, I ought to be happy- that kiss, Harley- there was desire there. He wanted me. That’s a step in the right direction. I just...God, even if we hadn’t _done_ anything, I would have liked if it he’d stayed.”

“I don’t know how I feel about Bruce, Jackie,” Harley said, “but I know, no matter what, you’re enthralled. So just be careful, you’re already too invested. And Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever even _almost_ miss your meds again, I’ll kick your ass all over Gotham.”

He smiled and leaned into Harley’s embrace- feeling safe. Feeling at home.

Monday morning found Jack walking into a crisp, warm room, greeted by a serious but smiling face and a tip of the head.

“Jack, have a seat.”

He let his small knapsack fall to the ground and settled onto the leather couch of the shrink’s office, kicking his feet up onto it and watching those eyes watch him from behind their glasses.

“How have you been?”

“Alright,” Jack admitted. “Couldn’t that be the whole session, Dr. Crane?”

Johnathan Crane laughed at that, scribbling something on his notepad.

“I suppose Jack. Are you in a hurry?”

“I was planning to surprise someone after this.”

“Oh, and who? Harley?”

“No,” Jack admitted. “My...my friend. My sort of boyfriend. I don’t really know what he is.”

And Jack proceeded to explain the past week he’d had with Bruce, and Dr. Crane listened and wrote. And when the hour was up, he reminded Jack to call him if there was ever a problem- if he needed more then his twice monthly sessions he would fit him in.

He remembered how Jack had broken after his last relationship, and he didn’t want to see the boy in a state like that ever again.

Jack took the bus to the center of Gotham after his session, to Wayne Enterprises. It was almost one o’clock, and for all he knew Bruce might be out eating lunch, but he wanted to see him.

He’d gotten a couple texts that weekend. He’d asked Bruce if he could see him Sunday night, but Bruce had said no. He’d asked if he could call, but Bruce said he wasn’t feeling well and was turning in early. And Jack wasn’t sure where that left them, if any of that was truth.

Stepping off the bus he noticed a familiar jean clad teenager messing with his hair outside the building, and walked over smiling.

“Well hey there stranger,” he said to Tim, who jumped at the voice, then smiled.

“Mr. Napier-“

“Seriously kid, just Jack.” He smiled and reached out, straightening Tim’s tie- and the teen blushed a cute shade of pink. _Adorable kid_.

“Are you here to see Mr. Wayne?”

“Gonna try to,” Jack said, and Tim reached out and took his hand.

“I’ll get you in.”

Sure enough, Tim was good on his word. He knew the Secretary’s pattern, and at 1:15 she always got up to get a fresh cup of coffee. In that moment they sprinted down the hallway to Bruce’s office- both giggling, feeling like devious children.

Jack decided he liked Tim. Well, really liked him. He’d liked him before, but now he wondered what it’d be like to actually spend time with the kid. He gave him his number and told him call him sometime, or text him- he’d show Tim his work if he wanted, or they could catch a movie. Something.

Jack needed more friends. He had fans, and general acquaintances, business like friends- and Harley. Harley was really his one friend.

Jack didn’t knock, he just walked in- which had Bruce’s head jerking up from his desk. His eyes widened as Jack closed the door behind him, smiling.

“Hey cupcake,” he said, walking over and leaning his hip on the desk. “I missed you. Hope you don’t mind me just dropping in.”

“How did you-“

“My little secret.” He winked. “Are you too busy to see me later?”

“Jack...”

“We don’t even have to go out. Come to my place, we can have a few beers, I’ll order a pizza again. You can crash there, or you can go home after, it’s up to you. Just the two of us, alone for a little bit.” He smiled at Bruce, and he sighed.

“I’ve got a lot of paper work to do,” Bruce said, standing up and closing the gap between him and Jack, sinking his hand into his curls. “So it might be a little later. But I think I can fit you in.”

Jack smiled as Bruce leaned down and kissed him gently- sure now that it was okay, and that there was no reason to worry.

Jack stopped and did some grocery shopping before Bruce came over that night. Just minor things- eggs, bread, more beer. He didn’t keep a lot in his apartment, but he thought if Bruce just _might_ stay, they’d want to eat something in the morning aside of cold pizza.

He put most of his easels away- the man with the questioning eyes, his works involving Bruce that he wasn’t ready to share with the man yet. He left out a piece he was working on about a dragon-style Cardinal, and was working on the indigo sky around the bird that night when there was a knock on his door. He set his brush down, smoothed his curls, took a deep breath, and walked over to the door, opening it and giving Bruce a dazzling, heart stopping smile.

“Hi sugar.”

Bruce smiled and walked in, kissing Jack on the cheek and holding up a plastic bag.

“I know you said pizza, but I thought Chinese might be a nice change.” Jack’s smile grew and he locked the door.

Jack wasn’t sure if Bruce had gone home- or if he had had Alfred bring him something at the office- but he had a small bag with his own clothing, and seemed thankful for the excuse to shed his suit and put on sweatpants and a t-shirt. Jack followed suit, and the two settled on the couch with a case of beer, the Chinese food, and a Stephen King movie marathon on Sci-Fi.

Jack had draped a plush blanket over their laps as the night had fallen and the temperature dropped slightly, and he was sitting against Bruce as he used a fork to eat his noodles. Bruce had laughed at first- but one try with those chop sticks and he was begging Jack to just use the fork.

Bruce didn’t care about what was on the TV- truth be told, it wasn’t like he watched it much anyway- but he liked Jack’s warmth right next to him- the way his toes would dig into Bruce’s legs as he shifted around in his folded position-, the sweet smell that clung to him just softly.

He needed this. He needed a night away from the world, a night where he was a normal guy that wasn’t running a company and keeping up a face among Gotham socialites. He needed this boy to remind him he was alive, he was choosing his paths and could choose _him_ and didn’t have to go with _her_.

Jack set his empty carton aside and finished off his beer, grabbing another and tilting his head back to take a long drink. Bruce watched his throat moved- pale and smooth and soft- and shifted around, glad for the blanket so Jack couldn’t see that sitting next to him so casually was arousing him. He wasn’t sure what it was about Jack’s apartment, but it made him feel like he was part of the boy, inside him, poking around, and that made him hard.

He liked thinking he was being let in.

He wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulder, pulling him close and took a drink himself. Jack sighed and sank into him, smiling.

“I like this,” he said, and Bruce smiled.

“Me too.”

They let the silence fall then, content to just bask in each other’s company.

“So, Bruce,” Jack was saying as he walked into the kitchen to grab the second case of beer. “I have a question.”

“What is it?” Bruce called, this time actually watching the movie. He’d gotten pulled in, and was starting to think maybe he had a thing for horror and suspense. Maybe Jack was turning him on to a lot of things.

“I don’t wanna over step a boundary or anything.” Jack gulped, walked out with the case and set it down, holding his open beer bottle. “But...what are we?”

“What do you mean? We’re human, at least I _think_.” Jack rolled his eyes and crawled back onto the couch, smacking Bruce on the arm.

“Smart ass.” Jack curled up under his arm, fingers tracing along his chest. “I mean...are we serious, Bruce? I know you need to take this slow- but I just wanna know. Are we at least on the track to something serious- or am I getting my hopes up?”

Bruce felt his chest squeeze, and he looked down at Jack. For a moment he wanted to say he didn’t know- didn’t know what this was or what it would become- if it could become anything. For a moment he wanted to tell Jack not to get his hopes up, that it wasn’t possible-

But he saw those green eyes and those pink lips and felt his warmth and Bruce was choking, his heart thudding like a scared deer in his chest. He wrapped both arms around Jack, pulling him close, and kissed the top of his head.

The boy was somewhere inside him, somewhere deep, and Bruce wasn’t sure how. Or why. All he knew was he liked the jittery stomach he got around him. Liked the warmth and his smell and how he kissed and tasted and melted right into him.

“We’re serious,” he finally said, “I just get cold feet now and then. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like this before, Jack.”

Jack’s cheeks tinged pink and he nearly dropped his beer, trying to set it on the floor, so he could maneuver around and face Bruce, still engulfed in his arms.

“Then...are we...are you-“

“Dating?” Bruce laughed- it was cute, it was like Jack was in high school and wanted to “make it official”. “Sure, Jack, we are. We did go on that date.”

“Double date- unless Dick and Jason were our chaperons.”

“They did a pretty shit job if they were.” The two laughed, but Bruce worried about Jack shifting around too much. That kiss they had shared- it had been fueled by all the wrong reasons, but Talia’s call and Bruce’s need to escape- but it had been _hot_ and he couldn’t deny that. He didn’t want Jack to realize how excited he was getting- he was trying to be _serious_.

“So...you’re my boyfriend, then?” Bruce saw the last bit of doubt in Jack’s eyes, and smiled at him, stroking his hair.

“Yeah Jack, I’m your boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving everyone! :)


	7. Chapter 7

To say that Jack’s heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings was an understatement.

To say that his chest tightened like a vice was an understatement.

To say he remembered how to breathe was ignorant.

The room was spinning and he was clinging to Bruce and the word _boyfriend_ was rolling through his brain over and over and over again. Bruce was pulling him closer and kissing his forehead, and Jack felt fireworks inside his skull.

“Remember to breathe, Jack,” Bruce teased lightly. “I’m not aiming to kill you.”

“You might anyway,” Jack admitted. And then he kissed Bruce. It was soft, tender, slow and lazy and it had something behind it- some warmth, some relief, something Bruce didn’t want to put a name to because it would mean admitting it was there.

He held Jack, cradled him, until Jack was moving to try and get a better angle on his mouth- getting on his knees and slipping one between Bruce’s thighs before he could stop him. Bruce’s hard-on dug right into Jack’s thigh and he _moaned_ and kissed Jack deeper, despite the embarrassment that ran through him. Jack’s eyes opened, and he pulled back, looking at Bruce shocked for a moment-

Before he got a sly grin.

He shifted his thigh a bit- the friction made Bruce moan- and he leaned down, tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue.

“Do you want something, Brucie?” Had he been anyone else, Jack would have just touched him- his body would have told him enough. But this was Bruce and he didn’t want to scare him off by going too fast- maybe he’d rather just jerk off and be done with it.

Bruce hesitated for a moment- he knew what he wanted, but was he ready for it? He remembered Jack’s knowing hand and sweet mouth, remembered that feeling of heat engulfing him, and his belly went tight in knots.

“Yeah,” Bruce finally breathed, and Jack’s eyes went wide, before his lids grew heavy and he watched through blonde eyelashes with a smirk.

“Relax,” he murmured, reaching down and running his hand along Bruce’s chest and abdomen, down to the hem of his sweatpants. He leaned in and kissed Bruce’s neck- soft and light and calm and warm and _just what Bruce needed to quiet his nerves_. He was murmuring something against his skin, but Bruce couldn’t understand him- just liked the sweet sound of his calm, low voice.

His finger tips pushed past the hem of Bruce’s sweatpants, teased the skin at the waist of his underwear- the slight trail of dark hair that led below. Bruce closed his eyes and tipped his head back, trying to remember to breath. He ached all over, all of the pain tracing back to his aching sex, and it was slightly terrifying. He’d never _wanted_ so badly.

“If you ever want me to stop,” Jack whispered in Bruce’s ear, hands busy below pulling on his clothing now, and a draft of air raced down and wrapped around Bruce’s cock. “Just tell me.”

Bruce nodded, and when Jack’s hand closed around him he gasped, pushing into that hand before Jack had the chance to move himself. Jack’s lips twitched into a smile, his eyes hungry as they watched Bruce’s face contort in the attempt to restrain the pleasure.

“Let go,” he whispered, stroking him surely, slowly, grip tight and just right. Bruce tried to, but something in him clung to his control, and Jack saw it in those nearly black eyes.

He gave Bruce a few more strokes, before he released him and slipped from his lap, down to the floor. He leaned in, pulling the blankets from Bruce’s lap so in the dim light streaming in from the streetlights he could see him- hard and standing for him and Jack licked his lips, _hungry_.

He kissed the underside of Bruce’s cock gently, felt him shudder, before he dragged his tongue out along the underside to the base, then back up, so he could kiss the head. Jack stared up as he opened his mouth and let the head slide in past his darkening lips, and Bruce stared down, pupils blown. Jack swallowed him more, didn’t break the eye contact as he took as much of him in as he could- which, had Bruce any mental capacity left, he’d realize was the majority of his sex and rather impressive- and wrapped his hand around the base to go along with his motions.

Jack closed his eyes for just a moment- wanted to try to keep form trembling too much, to fight the urge to reach down and stroke himself in time- before he opened them, half lidded, and stared up again.

His eyes, Bruce would later realize, were what did it for him. So green and fiery and lustful, ready to devour him whole and suck the marrow from his very bones. Jack was going to end him, take his essence and blend it in with his magnificent blood and Bruce just _didn’t care_.

Bruce opened his mouth and groaned. “J-Jack,” he stammered, “Move-“

Jack didn’t- except to swallow him again. And Bruce tried to stop, tried to hold it off because he didn’t want Jack swallowing _that_ but he just couldn’t. Not with those eyes.

His hips bucked and he cried out, head dropping back as his muscles spasmed and his orgasm ripped through him- his belly to his balls a mess of heat and joy that seeped all the way to his toes.

Jack took it all, let his throat work to swallow every drop Bruce gave him- tongue tingling with the salty bitterness. His cock jumped and throbbed in his pants at the taste, _he wanted more_.

He leaned back and let Bruce’s cock leave his mouth with a low _pop_. The air was cold and Bruce shivered, Jack acting fast to tuck him away as he licked his lips and Bruce looked down at him, cheeks flushed.

Jack smiled and stood up, leaning over him, close to his lips, and then deciding against it at the last moment, and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek. Then he turned to walk away, and Bruce was confused.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as Jack stepped into the bathroom, hand on the door.

“Just brushing my teeth,” he said with a smile and a wink, before he shut the door. The moment it was closed he leaned against it, shaking. One of his hands delved down his sweatpants and wrapped around his cock, squeezing but not stroking, and he bit back a gasp. Nearly stumbling to the sink, he turned the water on to give him some background noise, and eased the hem of his sweatpants down- as he had decided against underwear- and stroked once, sighing and closing his eyes as he imagined Bruce’s hand in place of his, those lips on his neck, the other gripping the flesh of his ass.

He bit his lip and moved his hand furiously, so far gone already that in _one, two, three_ strokes he was whimpering and coming into his hand, his body convulsing so much he thought his knees might buckle.

It took him a moment to catch his breath, to compose himself, before he washed his shaking hands and brushed his teeth, cheeks tinged.

When Jack reappeared from the bathroom, Bruce had pulled the blanket up higher and looked considerably relaxed- even tired. Jack smiled at him and leaned down, kissing his lips gently now- tasting minty.

“Wanna curl up for the night?” he asked, and Bruce nodded. Jack turned the TV off and gathered up the remaining beer, stowing it in the fridge while Bruce took the blanket and headed into his bedroom. Jack followed and watched as Bruce removed his sweatpants and crawled into bed in just his underwear, and bit his lips, blood growing hot again.

This man would be the death of him.

If Bruce was bothered by his lack of clothing, he was too tired to show or realize it. He curled up and Jack crawled in next to him, wrapping his arms around him and tangling their legs together.

“You didn’t have to,” Bruce mumbled, and Jack chuckled.

“Oh Brucie, I wouldn’t have even tried if I didn’t want to.”

“I mean... I said you could stop.” Jack tapped his fingers on Bruce’s back, confused for a moment- before he burst out laughing.

“Oh please sugar, I’ve got no qualms with swallowing.” Bruce blushed despite his fatigue and Jack laughed, showering his face in quick, soft kisses. Bruce wrapped his arms around him to still him and nuzzled into his hair, breathing in the sweet scent that only Jack had and drifting off into one of the most blissful sleeps he’d ever had.

Bruce woke up to the sound of his cell phone vibrating next to the bed. He’d placed it on the night stand when he’d first changed the night before, and he reached for it blinded to shut it up. The clock read eight A.M., and the vibrations were from the alarm he had set. He’d decided to just go into the office late that day- not that it mattered, truthfully he _could_ show up whenever he wanted, but he liked to keep a ritualistic like schedule and take part in the running of his company.

He sat up and scrolled through his message. Dick had texted him a number of times- Bruce had admitted to him he was going to be with Jack that evening, and the message train went from asking if Bruce was there, to snide remarks about what they could be doing- to a blowjob joke that rang far too true to Bruce and made him blush- to the simple acknowledgement that Bruce was staying the night and that Dick would _finally_ shut up.

Sometimes Bruce wondered where he found his friends.

“-Time is it?” Jack mumbled as he rolled over and squinted at Bruce. Bruce set his phone down.

“Eight. I’ve gotta get up and get ready to head to the office.”

“’Kay,” Jack mumbled, nuzzling into Bruce’s pillow as he stood up. It smelled like his cologne again. Bruce leaned down and kissed his temple, before disappearing off towards the bathroom for a quick shower.

When Bruce returned Jack was in the same exact position, breathing calmly- asleep again. Bruce threw on a fresh set of underwear and slacks, then sat down on the bed drying his hair and just watching Jack. He looked so calm and peaceful- which was funny, as Bruce knew the boy was filled with just boundless energy.

He reached out and stroked along his shoulder and side, and Jack stirred again. This time when his eyes opened, they were clearer.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I musta fallen asleep. I’m not a morning person.”

“I can tell,” Bruce said with a laugh and Jack sat up, stretching. When he relaxed he looked back at Bruce- admiring the fact that he was lacking his shirt still.

“Mmm, who did I please to get you shirtless in my bed?” He asked, suddenly a little _too_ clear, and Bruce was blushing.

“Jack-“

“Wanna lay back down for me baby?” Jack patted the bed. “If you’re gonna be stuck in the office all day, I can at least send you off with a little pick-me-up.”

Bruce blushed- and he wasn’t sure what part of him took over- but he tossed his towel aside and lay down, looking at Jack with defiant eyes that just _dared_ him, and Jack was diving for his zipper and swallowing him down, ravenous.

When Bruce left, he was already late, but he was buzzing in a way that wouldn’t leave him for a good few hours. The last thing he remembered was Jack’s kiss at the door- the way his lips were salty, his tongue was bitter, and that small gasp Jack gave him when he slipped his tongue into his mouth and tasted himself and didn’t care because it was Jack’s tongue and lips that he wanted, needed and craved and hated to leave behind.

Jack showered after Bruce left- indulged in another fantasy of him- took his pills, and settled down to wake up with some bad TV when his phone was ringing.

“’Sup Harley?” he asked, seeing her name on his screen.

“Come to lunch,” she said, “a little early maybe? I’ve got a meeting with a professor this afternoon, but I need my Jackie fix.”

Jack laughed, in high spirits. “Eleven okay?”

“Perfect, Puddin’.”

Jack loved lunches with Harley. If he had it his way, they’d have lunch together every day. Breakfast was just too early for them, and by dinner they had their own lives going on- but lunch, it was the perfect break, when they could take a deep breath and just talk for a minute.

“I’m having lunch with Pam again tomorrow,” Harley said excitedly over his sandwich. “She called me last night.”

“You might have a shot, Harley,” Jack said with a grin. “Just lay on some of that charm you’ve got.” She giggled. “So, Bruce stayed the night last night.”

Harley froze, teeth half sunk into her sandwich, and stared. Forced to take her bite, chew, and swallow, she cursed her desire to not choke, until she could finally speak. “What? He was even over?” Jack nodded.

“And guess what?”

“Oh lordy me, what Jackie?”

“We’re dating.” He grinned. “Called me his boyfriend and everything. It’s...it’s kinda serious, Harley. It’s actually _something_ now.” Harley stared at him, unable to speak, and Jack took her silence as a coax to continue. “I...I even blew him, Harl.”

“You did _what_?” She asked, eyes wide, and Jack shrugged a shoulder.

“It wasn’t the first time. I did when we were drunk.” She stared, her face a bit pale.

“Jack... you don’t...”

“I know,” he admitted, reaching up to trace one of his scars, his chest tightening. “I know I don’t usually. Not until I’ve let them in...but I just... I dunno. I couldn’t help it with him. Besides, I got enough practice with Eddie that it lost most of it’s traumatic affect.”

Harley frowned, stirring her lemonade with her straw. Jack seemed happy, in fact, he seemed more than happy- but that worried her, too. She knew Jack, and she knew he was invested now. His break-up with Eddie had left him so devastated he had spiraled out of control, and she was terrified of it happening again.

Bruce would just have to never, _ever_ break his heart.

Bruce left the office late that night- nearly nine o’clock. He intended to drive himself home, take another shower, and curl up in bed with a phone call to Jack. He wanted to hear his voice, his little pet names and the excitement from Bruce just calling him. It was nice to have someone so excited about your existence.

“Bruce.”

He stopped when he heard his named, turned and met the blue stare. Harley had her arms folded, only relaxing a little as she walked over to him.

“Harley,” he said after a moment, remembering her name, and she gave him a guarded smile.

“Do you have a minute? I’d like to grab a drink with you.” Something in her eyes told Bruce more than her lips did- and despite his exhaustion, he nodded because this was Jack’s best friend and he knew somewhere inside he needed her approval.

They took a seat inside one of the high end bars and ordered a drink, the dark which was usually soothing to Bruce in bars unnerving, because he swore her eyes glowed, _so alive_.

“So Jack says you two are serious now,” Harley said, sipping at her drink. Bruce nodded, leaving his scotch untouched. “Must be weird for you. First gay relationship?”

“It is,” Bruce admitted, fighting the urge to fidget.

“Wonder how that will go over with the tabloids.”

“We’re not public yet,” Bruce said, frowning. “Our close friends and family know, but that’s about it. Besides, I keep my life very private. The tabloids get what I want them to- that’s about it.”

“Would you be unhappy if they featured you and Jack?” Bruce stared at her, waiting for her to continue. “Or would you rather hide him?”

“What’s this all about?” Bruce asked, visibly annoyed now. “I’ve had a long day, and all I’d really like to do right now is head home, curl up, and call my boyfriend and hear his voice. So get to the point, Harley.”

Harley tapped her nails on the table- the sound oddly unnerving. “My point is, Bruce, that Jack is invested in you. Very invested. I told you once before to get out if you weren’t serious- well, now you’re in. That kid has been through hell and back _twice_ at least in his life, and he can’t handle much more. So, darling Bruce, my point is- if you break him, I will _break you_.”

She sipped her drink, and to passers-by she would have looked simply sweet and beautiful, but Bruce saw the venom- the hatred.

“I don’t intend to break him,” Bruce said, sighing. While part of him wanted to just get up and leave at that point, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave Harley on a sour note. “This is new to me, so cut me a little slack. I’m trying to move away from a woman who has done nothing but tear me apart for years. I’m trying something new- and frankly, I’m a bit scared.” Bruce swallowed. This, he didn’t like to admit. “I don’t know how long it will take me to get truly comfortable- but I _want_ to. I care about Jack.”

“Do you love him?” She asked it pointedly, staring him in his dark eyes, and Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I feel. But I know I care about him- I like his presence, his voice, and days in the office are getting harder because I just can’t handle that many hours without him.”

He waited for Harley’s rebuttal- for her disapproval, her speech. It never came. Instead, she sipped her drink, nodded her head, and the corners of her lips just twitched up in a small smile.

When Bruce finally got home, showered, and curled up in bed, it was after eleven. He wasn’t sure how Jack spent his time aside of his art- if he had a schedule he kept, but he called him despite the late hour, and only had to wait two rings.

“Hey sugar,” Jack purred. “I was hoping I’d hear from you. Long day?”

“Oh very,” Bruce said. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Are you working?”

“Painting, yeah,” Jack said, shifting his phone a bit.

“Tell me about it,” Bruce said with a sleepy smile, and Jack spoke softly into his ear as the brush moved across the page, until Bruce was lulled by the sweet voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I apologize for the slowing of updates- very busy week at work. Another week or two and that will slow down though, and my semester will be over, so I'll have plenty of time for updates! I hope to get another chapter up within the next few days though. :) Thanks for reading, as always! <3


	8. Chapter 8

Jack fidgeted in the car beside Bruce, who shot his eyes to him, before looking back at the road. He seemed ready to burst, pent up energy and affection and nerves.

It was Friday evening, and Bruce hadn’t seen Jack except for a quick lunch date on Wednesday. He’d left the office for an hour and met him for something light- and had ended up with the boy pressed against him in a shaking mess of desire as they kissed. He’d barely been able to focus the rest of the day.

Now, they were heading downtown to meet up with Dick and Jason for a few drinks, some nightlife. Bruce was not one for clubs and dancing, but as a young, rich man, it had been expected of him to show up at these things with his dates from time to time. Dick, on the other hand, had a passion for the blasting music and gyrations. Whether Jason liked it or not, Bruce wasn’t entirely sure.

Bruce left his car with a valet and the two walked in, Jack holding onto Bruce’s arm. He had asked when Bruce first picked him up if he needed to keep his distance- after all, the odds that someone would recognize Bruce were at about one hundred percent- but Bruce had said no. He didn’t want to imagine a night just looking at Jack and missing out on that sweet contact.

Reputation be damned.

Inside, Bruce guided Jack around towards the tables, where Dick and told him he’d be. Sure enough, Dick was sitting there nursing a drink and grinning, with a less than enthused looking Jason sitting next to him.

“Hey hey!” Dick called as they sat down. “Nice to see you two getting out. So Jackie, Bruce says you guys are serious now?” His smile told Jack the alcohol was making him a little bit _happy_ already, and Bruce- having known Dick for so long- could tell he’d already had quite a few before the two got here.

Jack was nodding, accepting a drink that a girl dressed in vinyl shorts and a white tank top was handing him out of nowhere. “Uh, yeah, we are-“

“You’re part of the family now!” He leaned across the table, just reaching, and kissing Jack’s cheek. Bruce had to guide Dick back to his seat.

“Dick, how many drinks have you had already?”

“One too few,” Dick said, sipping at his and reaching a hand over to rest on Jason’s thigh. His blue eyes rolled, but the corner of his lips quirked up in a smile as he reached down and rested his own hand over Dick’s.

Jack was giggling around his drink, trying t move his chair closer to Bruce’s. He hadn’t spent enough time around Bruce’s friends to really know them, but he liked Dick being silly. It made him feel more at ease.

“C’mon,” Dick said, standing up, “I’m sick of _sitting_. I come here to dance after all!” He was grabbing Jason and Bruce by their arms, pulling them up and Jack followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind.

Dick led them through the tightly packed dance floor, stopping when he decided it was right and grinning at the three. He wasted no time moving his hips to the beat, laughing like he had discovered some sort of freedom, holding a hand out towards them.

“Do you dance?” Jack asked Bruce, who shrugged a shoulder.

“When I have to. I tried to talk Dick into a quieter night, but he just refused.” He had to nearly shout in order for Jack to hear him, who smiled and turned to Jason.

“And you?”

“When he makes me,” Jason said, watching Dick move. Jack sighed.

“You two are too tight. You need to unwind!” And, throwing caution to the wind and hoping it would make the two _laugh_ and not anger them, Jack walked over to Dick, reaching out and placing on arm lazily over his shoulder, moving his hips closer and gyrating to the beat.

Dick grinned and Jack was ran one hand down his side, pulling him closer. “I knew you’d be fun,” he said over the music, and Jack giggled and could _feel_ Bruce’s eyes on him.

“Do they look pissed?”

Dick peeked over Jack’s shoulder, saw Bruce and Jason watching them. “Nah, not pissed. Jason sorta looked amused.”

“Bruce?”

“As possessive as he can be, I think he knows I’m not about to fuck his boyfriend on the dance floor.” Dick laughed, then perked his eyebrows up when the other two began to move towards them. “Incoming, doll.”

Before Jack could move, he felt a hand tracing his spine- felt another arm wrap around him and turn him around. Bruce pulled him closer, chest to chest, chuckling and running his fingers through those green curls as they moved.

Jack smiled, relieved, and felt Dick behind him suddenly- pressed against him in the most exciting way, rocking his hips rather obscenely with Jack. Sandwiched between the two, Jack was rather happy, and grinned like a fool as he fell into the music- knowing he was more excited than he should be, but Bruce was just so _hot_ and he couldn’t deny to himself he’d like to get the chance to be sandwiched between him and Dick in a more private setting. Bruce had hot friends, after all.

Jack wasn’t sure how much of this his senses could take- the feel of their breath on him, their eyes, the way their hands touched him here and there and _everywhere_ , the press of their hips. He was hard and he knew Bruce knew it- and Dick was hard against him and he _liked_ it and felt bad and amazing at the same time.

He was almost relieved when he felt Dick pulled away from him, and Bruce shoved forward a bit. The relief turned to shock though, when Jason barged in and grabbed him, pulling them flush together and letting one hand trail down his spine to grab his ass. Jack yelped, jerked, but pressed into him and Jason chuckled.

“Give ‘em a show,” he murmured into Jack’s ear, lips ghosting his cheek, before he turned him and ran his hands along his side, up over his abdomen, and Jack complied because he _liked_ the idea of Bruce watching him. He liked the idea of Bruce getting hot and bothered by whatever means so long as he was involved.

Jack was sure he was creating a new category of sick, and that Harley was going to be doing a combination of laughing her ass off, scolding him, and cheering, when she heard all this.

Jack let himself be passed around between the three until his legs ached and his lungs burned. Sometimes he wasn’t sure whose lips teased his neck or ear- and when they were finally slowing down he was buzzing so hard he wondered if he should have brought some meds. This was sensory overload times ten.

“I need a drink,” Dick said, and Bruce was laughing in agreement.

“Pfft, I need a cigarette. I’ll be back in a few,” Jason said, waving his hand, and Jack called that he’d be back, following him outside. The moment they burst into the cold night, Jack leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, the music and bass still humming inside his skull. “You okay, kid?”

“Just a lot to take in,” Jack said. “Sensory issues.”

“Oh, yeah. Bruce mentioned that once to Dick. Dick relayed it to me. You’d think he’d realize I don’t need a report of everything that is said to him in one day.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, if the blood ever returns to my brain.” The two laughed.

“Pretty hot being sandwiched between them, isn’t it?”

“Would you know?” Jason grinned and took another drag.

“Get a few drinks into Bruce and he’s never minded dancing with Dick and I. Usually without his lady friends being around- we tried that one time and the chick just wasn’t any fun. She loved being the center of attention, but the moment Bruce shifted his attention to one of us, she flipped. You stayed cool at least, kid.”

Jack shrugged a shoulder, finger combing his curls.

“Kinda hard to get too jealous when I have your boyfriend grinding into my ass.” He grinned at Jason, who laughed.

“Dick’s a bit of a whore, sorry.”

“Not complaining. You scored with him, he’d pretty hot. But then again, you’re not bad yourself. Does Bruce just hang out with beautiful people?”

“Oh no, the rich old snobs are hideous. He’s just exposing you to the pretty ones.” Jason took one last drag, then flicked his cigarette away. “Get enough air?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.”

Before Jack could move, he felt Jason pinning him to the wall, well muscled but lean body keeping him from moving. His mouth descended and tasted like smoke and booze, but his tongue was warm and despite Jack’s shock his body was burning so badly that he accepted it and clutched at him. The kiss was deep but quick, a rapid shove of Jason’s tongue into his mouth to tangle with and taste his, and then he was pulling back, chuckling.

He walked inside and left Jack there for a second trying to process what the hell was going on.

“Where’s Jack?” Bruce asked as Jason walked over and picked up the drink Dick had ordered for him. As if in answer, Jack was hurrying to catch up, and Bruce caught him before he could sit down, pulling him down onto his lap and nuzzling his hair. Jack was shaking and tried to hard to hide it.

“Drink up,” Dick said, “I want a few more dances before we head out.”

“Driving,” Bruce said, “take a shot for me.”

Dick grinned and obliged him, and it seemed all three men were watching his throat as it worked to swallow the liquid. Jack blushed, trying to avert his eyes, suddenly feeling like this was all too much, like he wasn’t sure if he should be indulging or controlling himself _or what_.

When he was dragged back to the dance floor and pressed so sweetly against Bruce, watching as Jason finally gave in and moved his body with Dick’s, he wasn’t sure he’d actually survive the night.

He was still a little buzzed from the alcohol when they all climbed into Bruce’s car- but mostly his body was just alive with so many feelings, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Jason and Dick crawled into the back of Bruce’s car for a ride home, and Bruce seemed to transform back to the reserved Bruce that Jack knew.

Jack leaned his head against the cold window and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on his breathing and not the ache between his legs, but it was hard with Dick giggling in the back of the car and Jason’s hushed voice.

“Hey,” Bruce said, not looking back, “keep it in your pants, Dick, until you get home.”

“You’re no fu- _oooh_.” He cut off and Jason was chuckling and Bruce gripped the steering wheel.

“Jason-“

“Hey, I’m not doing anything his eyes aren’t telling me to do.”

“Like fucking teenagers,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes, and Jack lifted his head and looked at him. He shot a glance back, saw Jason tugging on Bruce’s jeans, and quickly turned back around. He was pretty sure that no matter how much they had passed him around on the dance floor, he wasn’t meant to see any of that.

“Dick, I swear,” Bruce was saying as they stopped at a red light and he looked back, “If you don’t tell Jason to stop, they only thing that’ll be fucking you is my damn fist.”

Jack laughed at that- cackled, actually, and Jason joined him. Dick’s face turned bright red, but he muttered something about how Bruce would enjoy it, and Jason only laughed harder.

“Oh god,” he said, wiping his eyes. “If you two ever fuck it would be the funniest shit ever.”

“It’d be half hot and half threatening,” Jack said, before he giggled, “eh, make that all hot.”

“Jack!” Bruce said, looking at him, and the boy grinned.

“I’m just playin’ baby,” he said, reaching over and daring to run his hand over Bruce’s thigh. Having Dick and Jason there gave him a little courage.

Once Dick and Jason had been left at Dick’s expensive 15th floor apartment, though, that courage began to die. Jack retracted back to himself as Bruce drove, expecting to be heading back home to his empty bed. He was pondering on the idea of convincing Bruce to stay the night, when his thoughts were interrupted.

“So, I was thinking,” Bruce said, not taking his eyes off the road, “Maybe you’d want to come over? Stay the night at my place. I’ve missed you, I don’t really want to just take you home.”

Jack felt his tongue turn to lead in his mouth, and all he could do was nod foolishly and watch Bruce smile ever-so-slightly.

When Jack followed Bruce into the elevator to ride up to the penthouse, he was in awe. He’d never come from money or really been around it- sure, his art could make him some, but he’d rather have it be enjoyed by the masses- and the fact that Bruce had an elevator _in his house_ gave him this odd rush.

The doors closed and Bruce turned to him, giving him a dark smile, and Jack felt his back pressed into the tiny metal hand railing as Bruce sank his hands into his hair and kissed him feverishly. Jack’s head spun and he felt his knees buckling. He clung to Bruce for dear life as his mouth was opened, tasted the faintness of alcohol and Bruce’s sweet lips, and he groaned and Bruce just dove deeper.

He only pulled away when the elevator stopped, stepped back one step and turned when the doors open. He took Jack’s hand and led him off, Jack stumbling a little and trying to remember to breathe.

They’d barely gotten off the elevator when footsteps echoed and Alfred came into view. “Welcome home, sir,” he said, and when he saw Jack he _smiled_. “Hello Jack.”

“Hi Alfred,” Jack said, offering a small wave and a blush, and Bruce was smiling.

“Go get some sleep Alfred,” Bruce said, “I said you didn’t need to wait until I got home.”

“Just making sure all is well, sir,” he said, walking past them to the elevator. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my own room.”

The moment those doors closed Bruce was pulling Jack to him and tangling his hands in his hair again, kissing him. Jack whimpered and shook, loving it but being so overwhelmed he felt like he might burst.

“Baby,” he mewled, pulling back just a little. “I...I need a minute. Tonight was...was so much, I don’t know if I can process anything right now.” He blushed. “I probably should have asked you to stop at my place so I can grab my meds.”

Bruce smiled, but his eyes looked a little concerned. He kissed Jack’s forehead. “What can I do to help?”

“Mind if I shower?” Jack asked. “Always calms me down. Besides- I feel a little gross. There’s sweat drying in places that just are not flattering.”

Bruce laughed at that, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders and guiding him around the penthouse towards his bedroom- and the adjoining bathroom.

Jack closed his eyes and let the steaming water run over his face and hair. He needed this. The heat was a bit much, but it blocked out everything else he was feeling, let him get a hold of himself. He thought each breath out, and when he thought he was calm enough, he chanced feelings by lathering shampoo into his hair. Enough to ease him into other textures, feelings, smells.

Part of him had wanted Bruce to stay in the bathroom and watch him undress, but he had left him alone and retired to his own room to wait for him. It might have been for the better though- Jack was painfully hard then, and still was. Calming himself down from his near hyper-sensory meltdown hadn’t calmed his arousal. Bruce’s body still linged against his skin, and Dick’s and Jason’s, and Bruce’s lips on the elevator, the way he pinned him.

Jack sighed. Bruce hadn’t shown an interest in touching Jack, in doing anything more than kissing him- but those lips told a story his mind didn’t want to tell. And Jack couldn’t help but wonder if now was the time to break him _just a bit_.

Bruce heard him calling softly, and got up from his bed where he lay. He was in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and had been ready to surprise Jack when he came out, hoping to tangle with him in the bed a bit- to waht end, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Bruce knocked once on the door, and Jack was calling for him to come in for just a second. Bruce could still hear the water running, and wondered what he was up to. He opened the door and was met by steam, and Jack pulling the shower curtain back. The steam seemed to radiate off him, the water still hitting him and running down him in hot little streams. Bruce stared for a moment, eyes trying to take everything in and his mind unable to keep up, and Jack was smiling his coy little smile.

“Come join me,” he said, biting his lower lip, and Bruce was walking towards him and reaching for him, pulling his wet chest against his and kissing him deeply. Jack wound his arms around him, pulling him closer and pushed back with force- trying to control the kiss. One of his hands trailed down Bruce’s side and grabbed the hem of his sweatpants, pushing them down. “Please sugar,” he whispered against Bruce’s lips. “You teased me _so bad_ tonight. Come play a little.”

Bruce groaned, and Jack smirked. He had him. He leaned back, and Bruce barely breathed before he was pushing his clothing off and stepping in, pressing to Jack so their very fibers entangled. Jack gasped when his sex brushed Bruce’s, losing his control for a moment as Bruce explored his wet body eagerly, hands reaching for his hips. Jack planted his lips to Bruce’s neck and kissed and nibbled, one hand reaching up to tease one of his nipples as a hand grabbed his ass and made Jack shake.

“Careful,” he breathed, “Or I’ll be asking you to fuck me, and not just touch me.” The moment the words left his lips Jack blushed. He hadn’t meant to actually _say_ that. He wanted to push Bruce, but he didn’t want to push too hard, didn’t want to drive him away.

To Jack’s surprise though, Bruce gasped and reached between them, wrapping a hand around Jack and stroking him, staring so intently into him that Jack shook. Bruce had never touched another man, and all he could think to do was stroke Jack the way he’s touch himself, his thumb swirling over the head and the sensitive nerves right below it where he joined the shaft. From the moan that escaped Jack, he was pretty sure he was right.

“Bru-uce,” he whimpered, the sound being torn from his throat, as he tipped his head back and let the hot water drench him. Bruce gripped him tighter, his heart thudding in his chest. Jack, in that moment, was possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

When he threw himself forward, closer, he reached down and gripped Bruce’s cock, stroking him to the same rhythm Bruce was using. Bruce gasped, and Jack’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, so close.

“-With me,” he was muttering, “come with me.” Bruce gasped, realized how hard he’d been the whole time only as Jack’s hand slid along him perfectly, as that mouth pressed to the sensitive spot on his neck, just below his ear. “Come with me.”

Bruce cried out, gripped Jack tighter, who echoed his cry. They shook as their orgasms ripped through them, as they crumbled and then Jack’s mouth was on Bruce’s, sucking the breath from his lungs, the marrow from his bones, the very sanity from his brain.

He clutched him close and let it all go, because he didn’t need to be sane to be around this boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted _so badly_ for there to just be a crazy foursome, if you couldn't tell. But that just didn't work with Bruce's character... :(


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Self harm.

Jack rolled over onto his back, sighing as the warm air settled on his naked chest. Next to him, he could hear soft breathing, and slowly he opened his eyes to a dark ceiling that wasn’t his.

He looked next to him, saw Bruce sleeping soundly, and smiled. His body tingled remember Bruce’s hand, the press of him, the way they had tumbled to the bed and touched and kissed and just _explored_. He might not have gotten Bruce in every way, but he’d take what he could get. It was a big step.

He got out of bed, completely naked, and walked over to the heavily curtained window. He peaked outside, met a graying sky that promised later rain, and the bustling city.

“Come back to bed.”

He turned at the mumble, saw Bruce was watching him with those nearly black eyes. He smiled and walked back, crept under the cover and into his waiting arms. Sighing happily as he nestled into Bruce’s warmth, he traced his shoulders.

“It’s late baby,” he said, knowing he had to be right. “I need to get back to my apartment.”

Bruce frowned. “Why so soon?” he asked, and Jack giggled.

“Why, my other boyfriend is waiting for me.”

Bruce leaned back, staring at him, eyes so serious, and Jack just laughed. “Oh doll, I was _playing_. There’s no one else- you know that. I just need my meds is all. I really should have had you just swing by last night before we came here.”

Bruce sighed, nestling into his hair again. Yeah, they could wait another five minutes for that.

“You know, last night,” Jack was saying as they drove down the street, the window down so his curls were wiping around, “When I went outside to get some air, Jason kissed me.”

He said it very matter-of-factly- because that’s how, looking back, he felt about it. It had happened, and he’d been on such an aroused high that he’d gone with it for a moment. But his heart hadn’t been in it. It just was there, a little spot in time he thought Bruce should know about.

“Jason’s an odd one.”

“Are you mad?”

“Not in the slightest. Like I said, he’s odd. I don’t see you running off to him anytime soon.” Jack laughed and reached over, taking one of Bruce’s hands and tangling their fingers together. He wouldn’t be running off to anyone.

Bruce offered to stay, but Jack laughed and said he’d call him later. If Bruce stayed, he wouldn’t get any painting done at all, and he’d rumor that Oswald wanted to host a new show. He needed to have some new work.

He headed up the stairs, humming quietly to himself, feeling better than he had in a very long time. He reached the third floor and began down the hallway, on auto pilot, so engrossed in the joy in his veins he didn’t notice the figure leaning against his door until those dark green eyes were staring into his and he was only a few feet away.

Jack froze and a smile crossed the man’s handsome face. _No._

_No, not now._

“Jackie baby,” he said, reaching a hand out and wrapping it around his wrist to pull him closer, “How ya been, doll?”

Jack swallowed, the world suddenly crashing down around him.

Ed followed him inside his apartment without an invitation. He’d never needed one. “So how ya been babe?” he asked again, looking around the apartment that hadn’t changed much in the year since he’d left Jack.

“Fine,” was all Jack could muster as he made a bee line for his kitchen, shaking hands reaching for his pills. This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when it was _so perfect_.

“Kinda late for your pills,” Ed said as he watched Jack take them dry, so desperate to get them in his body. He prayed Ed would disappear when they hit his belly- that he was hallucinating, that as wall. “You been out all night?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, turning to him- frustrated because he was still there with those deep forest eyes and that cocky smile and that red hair that was _so soft_. “I was, so I’m pretty tired. Why don’t you get out.”

“Ooooh Jackie baby, who lit a fire under your ass?” He walked closer, pinning Jack to the counter in a fluid motion and reaching behind him, grabbing his ass. “Used to be only I could do that.”

“Eddie,” Jack said- less forceful now, more pleading. “Please, just leave.”

“Tell me you missed me.”

“I didn’t.” It was a lie- Jack knew it, Ed knew it. Jack had missed him _so badly_ at one point he’d gone off his meds and ended up in the hospital for two days. He’d needed therapy every day for a month just to get back to functioning-

Edward had been _everything_ to him, the only person he let inside aside of Harley. The man he’d fallen for, he’d given himself to willingly and trusted and loved and needed and then he _left_ because Jack was _too much_ and he wanted some room to play.

Seeing him was like seeing a ghost, and Jack wanted to pluck his eyes out so he never had to see him again.

“You’re a liar.” He leaned closer. “You missed me. You missed me _so bad_.” He closed the gap, kissed Jack, who froze up, struck by the familarirty of his lips, the taste of cigarettes and mint on his tongue. He froze, and then he reached between them and pushed on his chest, trying to get away. Ed reached up then, stroking one of Jack’s scars, and that was it.

Jack shoved him harder, and Edward stumbled back. Glaring, Jack made a fist and let it connect with Ed’s jaw, making him stumble again.

“I said get out,” Jack said, panting. “I said get the fuck out, and don’t come back. I don’t want to see you, Eddie. I don’t even want to know you exist anymore.”

Ed rubbed his jaw, chuckling. “You really grew a pair, babe,” he said, “Almost makes me sad. I liked the little Jackie who rolled over and begged me for it.”

“Get out before I throw you out in pieces.”

“Whatever,” Ed said, walking towards the door. “But just remember babe, I’m back in Gotham now, if you ever change your mind.”

The door shut and Jack slumped against the counter, shaking as a silent sob ripped through him. _Just when everything was perfect_.

Harley was sitting at lunch with Pamela when her phone began to ring. She apologized and looked at it, saw Jack’s number, and shrugged a shoulder. It couldn’t be anything too important.

“Oh go on, answer it,” Pam said with a sweet smile, and Harley unlocked her phone and lifted it to her ear.

“Hey Jackie.”

“He’s back.” Jack sounded broken, she could hear his voice trembling.

“Jack, who’s back?”

“He was here. God, Harley, he was here. He was real and I could feel him and he was _in my apartment_.”

“Jack, you’re not making sense-“

“It was perfect, Harley. It was all perfect and then he came here with those eyes and kissed me and _what the hell am I doing with myself_. He’s tearing me apart again.”

Harley’s face dropped, pupils dilating just a bit. She knew then, she knew who was back in Gotham. The one man who had broken Jack so thoroughly she thought she’d never get him back.

“I’m coming over,” she said. “You lock your door, and do not let anyone but me in. Jackie, it’s okay, I swear. I’ll be there soon- _don’t do anything stupid_.”

She hung up and looked at Pam. “I’m so sorry Pam, I have to run. Jack...he needs me.”

“It’s okay,” Pam said, standing up with Harley and taking her hand. “We’ll just get a rain check on this.” She smiled and leaned in, kissing Harley’s cheek so her skin tingled in such a way it never had.

When Harley got to Jack’s and knocked on the door, she could hear him undoing every lock he had. He pulled her in and locked the door again, his eyes looking wild.

“Jack,” she said, concerned. “Oh Puddin’, it’s okay. He’s gone. Ed can’t do shit to you baby.”

“I thought he was gone from Gotham for good,” Jack said, “when he...he...he left me, that’s what he said. God Harley, I’m not ready to face him.”

“Jack,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking into his frantic green eyes. “Jackie, I need to know something. Think on this, okay? Do you still love Ed?”

Jack didn’t say anything, just stared at her, let his mind flow back to his ex-boyfriend’s hands on him, his mouth, those butterflies he got around him-

The feeling of never knowing when he was coming home, who he was with. Seeing those men and women he’d run into with lust in their eyes. Catching him with them. The feeling of _not being enough_.

He was shaking when he said quietly, “No. No, I don’t.”

Harley breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. That’s good. Then it doesn’t matter that he’s here. You’ve got Bruce- he cares about you, Jack. I hope I don’t regret saying this- but I think he’s good for you. How about we call him, and maybe you can spend a little time with him? I bet that will make everything seem better.”

“I crashed with him last night,” Jack said, and by the way his cheeks tinged pink, Harley didn’t need to ask if anything had happened. “He wanted me to stay with him today, but I...I needed my meds and I need to get some work done, rent’s due soon and I need to scrap some cash together-“

“Jack, stop,” Harley said. “Baby, just stop. Your art isn’t going anywhere. You’ve got plenty of time before you’ve got a show. Go see your boyfriend.”

“But-“

“We’ll talk about rent after. If you sell one of your pieces, you’d have it easily. I know you hate the idea, but it might be time, Puddin’. That doesn’t mean no one can ever enjoy it again, except the person who buys it.”

Jack swallowed, slumping down. “Yeah...yeah, okay. Let me call him, see what’s up.”

Harley smiled, nodding her head as Jack walked off and she closed her eyes for a moment. Crisis narrowly avoided.

When Jack called Bruce though, he was at the office, about to walk into a sudden board meeting. He’d figured since Jack had needed the time, he could attend.

“I can pick you up after,” Bruce said, unaware of Jack’s sad, pleading eyes. “How’s that?”

“Yeah...yeah, that’ll work,” he said, as he heard voices talking to Bruce in the background, and wondered if Bruce even really realized what he was saying. “I’ll see you later.”

The line went dead, and Jack slumped down onto his bed. He took a moment to compose himself, then walked out to the living room, saw Harley going through the little journal they kept detailing his works- she was trying to find a few he could part with easily, he knew, and it made his stomach sick, even if it had to be done.

His art was the one good thing he could do with his life, and beyond wanting everyone to always be able to enjoy the original, he didn’t want them ripped from his fingertips. It was something to cling to, it always hurt to sell pieces.

“Bruce is going to pick me up later,” Jack said. “Why don’t you call Pam and see if you can grab drinks tonight? I feel really bad about your date getting messed up because of me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it,” Harley said, flipping through the pages. “I can make it up later with her. I’ll stay with you until Bruce gets here.”

“I should really get some work done though,” Jack said, “And I don’t know if I can paint with you watching. Not today, anyway.”

Harley looked up at him, sighed, and closed the book. She stood up and place her hand on his shoulder.

“Jack...I can stay. You know I can _always_ stay.” He smiled, reaching up to hold her hand.

“I know Harley, I know. But you have a life, you can’t let your world revolve around me.” Harley cringed a bit- because it was true, but she didn’t want to admit it. Maybe a part of her still longed for Jack in a way she couldn’t have him- a way sometimes he wished was possible, because life would just have been easier. So much easier.

She nodded and leaned in, giving him a peck on the lips- unable to make herself steer to his cheeks. He let her, squeezed her hand, but that was it. Harley pulled away a moment later, heading to the door.

“Call me,” she said, “for _anything_. I’ll get here in ten seconds flat.”

Jack gave her a sad smile as she opened the door and walked out.

Bruce had been walking into the conference room when Jack had called, and had been so wrapped up in everything that was being said around him, it had barely registered he needed to be anywhere. The meeting ran most of the day, and when he was finally leaving, it was getting dark. Exhausted, Bruce, who had driven himself today, was heading for his car when a familiar, smooth voice called out his name.

“Bruce, darling.” He froze, turned around and saw her deep brown hair, only a few shades lighter than his, framing her elegant face, and those dark, dark eyes.

“Talia,” he said, a breath that had escaped him that happened to grace her name. She smiled and walked over to him, until she stood only a step away.

“I said I was coming back.” She reached out, ran her hand down his chest, stopped to stroking his tie with her thumb. “We need to talk, darling. Can we go somewhere private? I’m staying just a few blocks away in the hotel, why don’t we go there?”

Sirens were blasting in Bruce’s head. This, this was the worst idea possible. He needed to stay in the open with her. Grab some coffee and sit and talk, if that was she what she wanted. But he knew Talia, and “talking” never meant _talking_.

But he was opening the door for her and helping her into his car, because that was what he did. Bruce Wayne always caved to Talia, she was so deep inside him now there were no other options.

Jack tapped his fingers on the arm of his couch. It was late now, _too late_. Bruce still wasn’t there, and he hadn’t even heard from him. He was looking at his phone, debating, needing to call him, but wanting to not. He could do this. Deep breaths, he could work through everything on his own.

_Ed’s fingers on his scars felt like fire, a hot knife, like his face was being cut open again and he could feel the blood rushing from the wounds, could feel the sting as skin parted and was shoved open wide-_

Jack grabbed his phone and frantically called Bruce. He couldn’t do this alone.

Talia was sitting on the bed when Bruce’s phone started buzzing. She picked it up, but didn’t recognize the name “Jack”. Frowning, she lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Uhm-“ Jack said, caught off guard. “I, Uh, I’m looking for Bruce-“

“Sorry sweetheart,” she said, looking down at her nails. “He’s going to be _occupied_ for the night. Try him again in the morning. But not early.”

She ended the call before Jack could say anything else, and set the phone back on the nightstand. Bruce walked back in a moment later, having shed his jacket and loosened his tie.

“Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the bed, and Bruce stood rigid.

“No thanks.” She frowned, then reclined back.

“Honey, this isn’t the way to greet me when I’ve been away-“

“You weren’t _away_ Talia,” he said, his voice sounding a bit bitter, “you _left_. There’s a difference. I think you keep forgetting that.” She frowned, folding her arms. 

“You make me regret coming back.”

“Good. Stop doing it.” Talia froze, staring at Bruce, who was glaring at her. “I can’t do this anymore. We’re off and on more times than I can count. We’re done, Talia. We’re just done.”

“We’re never done, Bruce-“

“We are now. You’ve moved on countless times, just do it again. I finally did.” She stared, arms slowly unfolding, and moved to the edge of the bed.

“You...what?”

“I found someone,” Bruce said, “And he’s amazing. A little odd, yeah, but amazing. And he makes me feel...feel more than you ever did, Talia.”

“ _He_?!” She stood up then. “Oh Bruce, you don’t mean to tell me you’re gay or something. Maybe that’s why this never worked. Don’t tell me it’s Dick.”

Bruce laughed at that, an honest laugh. “It’s not,” he offered with a faintly fond smile. “Swear it. And I’m not gay- he’s just...he’s right, Talia. And I won’t throw that away.”

She closed the gap, reached out and placed her hand on his chest. Part of her wanted to slap him, because Bruce Wayne had _always_ been her’s, regardless if they were together or not- but part of her was a bit relieved. Part of her knew she needed to leave for good, but she just couldn’t.

“For what it’s worth,” Bruce said, reaching up and squeezing her hand, “it wasn’t all bad.”

“No,” she said, smiling a sad sort of smile. “No, it wans’t darling. There was good. There was a lot of good at times. I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

“Neither would I,” Bruce admitted. “But I need to leave now, Talia. It’s better that way.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, but nodded. Bruce gathered uo his jacket and phone and walked to the door, stepping out. He turned to say good-bye, and leaned down, kissing her cheek.

“Good-bye, Talia,” he whispered, and she whispered it back, before closing the door on a part of Bruce’s life he was ready to leave behind.

He made his way to his car, and once inside, looked at the time. Nearing midnight. Frowning, he pulled out his phone to call Jack- only realizing now he had said something about seeing him tonight when he was going to the meeting. The call went straight to voice mail- strange, but Bruce assumed he had gone to bed, and sighed, waiting for the beep.

“Hey Jack, I guess you’re sleeping. I’m sorry, my meeting went way later than I thought, and then some stuff came up. I guess I’ll just head home. Call me tomorrow? I’ll make up for this.”

Bruce hung up, set his phone down, and drove home with thoughts of some sleep and a dreamless night- one where Talia didn’t need to haunt him.

Jack didn’t know the female that spoke to him- never got much of a chance to ask as she hung up before he could say much. But his mind said one name, _Talia_ , and he couldn’t shake it. The mythical woman who held Bruce’s heart in a vice- and she had answered, he was busy, _he was with her_.

Jack stared at his phone, and then chucked it across the room. It thudded onto the carpet, and he reached up, tugging at his curls and curling up into a ball on the couch, shaking. _Bruce is with her, Bruce is with her, Bruceiswithher_. It was a mantra, over and over and over again in his head, and he couldn’t shake it. Better, better than him. Why else would Bruce go off back to her?

Jack stood up and paced the room, shaking still. He’d done something, _Oh god what had he done_ \- what did he do to drive Bruce back? Did he say something? Did he not?

Was Bruce just sick of staring at his ugly face?

He walked into the bathroom, flipping on the light and staring into the mirror at his face. He traced one long scar with an index finger, before he growled animal-like and primal at himself and reached back, smashing his fist into the mirror. The glass shattered and drove into his knuckles and he howled and reeled back, watching the blood well up around the shards. He plucked them out, stumbling form the bathroom and leaving blood drops in the carpet. It trickled down his hand and looked _so pretty_ that he stopped at his easels. Emerald eyes with questions marks stared back- Eddie, immortalized in paint, and he dragged his fingers down it, leaving blood streaks behind.

“Pluck your eyes out,” he muttered, smearing the blood over Eddie’s eyes. Eddie who had healed him so much, who had been loved by him so deeply- who had thrown it all away because he didn’t want to be tied down to someone so crazy, so dedicated to his work- didn’t want to be tied down to one mouth and one ass.

He fell down to his knees, hanging his head and closing his eyes. His scars burned, his face felt like fire, and he was smearing the blood on his lips and along them, into a big red smile before he knew what he was doing. Hide it all behind a smile and _forget_ , forget all that had done, all the bleeding and the tears and the death of himself. Forget it all and be reborn into something that didn’t _care_.

“Bruce,” he whimpered- God, he had fallen hard. He had _loved_ him the moment he saw him in the bar- a perfect god of dark hair and black eyes and dazzling smiles. He’d loved him, that’s what it was and he wouldn’t deny it now- loved and lost and wanted and was denied and rejected.

He tore the canvas with Eddie’s bloodied picture down and threw it, standing up and heading to the kitchen. He ripped open the cupboard and took out his prescriptions, opening them and dumping the pills down the sink. He dind’t want to be sane in the world anymore- he was sick and tired of being used, of being fucked without anyone asking _hey, is it good for you?_

When they were all gone he went to his room and sat on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and clinging to them as he rocked and sobbed. Something inside him called her name, _Harley_ , but his phone was gone and he couldn’t hold onto that sane voice long enough. The break had been so long coming- building up since Eddie first left, building from the last minor break where he’d threshed so badly he’d hit his head and been in the hospital for two days, where he had wanted to die because he couldn’t imagine a world without him, and swore he’d never let that happen again.

And here he was, with the same problem once again. Bruce had found something better, and Jack was left ugly and alone. _Always_.

His mind stopped. He tranced, didn’t move for a few hours, until his clock read four AM and he suddenly sparked back to life. His hand stung and hurt to move, so he flexed it extra, hissed at the pain because it reminded him he was real. He left his bed and walked back to the living room, grabbing a blank canvas and a brush and walking to the bathroom. The remains of the mirror clung to the wall, and a grinning face stared back at him- finding all this funny, big and red and _happy_.

Jack plucked one of the pieces of glass off the wall and dragged it along his arm. His skin opened up and he _didn’t even feel it_ , and as the blood welled up he swiped his brush through it, dragging it along the canvas and _smiling smiling smiling_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Sexual violence/abuse/rape, mutilation, underage.

Sunday evening, and Harley was sitting on her couch flipping through television channels. She knew she had work to be doing- but really, she didn’t feel like it. She’d had a great lunch with Pam, and had plans to meet her tomorrow night for drinks.

Harley was sure she’d do it then- she’d tell her she was so pretty and touch her hand. And when she blushed or laughed, she’d lean in, and plant just _one_ kiss on her. Just one. She wasn’t sure if she was crazy- but she had been getting the vibe from Pamela that it’d be welcome. Maybe she had caught Jack’s crazy.

_Jack_. She hadn’t heard from him. He was with Bruce last night, so she hadn’t expected to- _probably getting his brains fucked out_ \- but she had expected something that day. She’d been so wrapped up in Pam she had forgotten.

She clicked his picture in her contacts, but her call went straight to voice mail. _Weird_. She hung up, waited a moment, tried again. Same thing.

Jack never did that, unless he was in the midst of a stroke of genius. Even on dates, it’d ring a few times. Unless he and Bruce were marathon-sexing it up, there was no way he’d ignore her calls or leave his phone off.

She tried one last time, and when he didn’t pick up, she decided she’d head over to his apartment. It was a short drive, and if he wasn’t there no big deal. If he was, she could yell at him.

Twenty minutes later and she was there. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Shaking her head, she figured he must still be with Bruce- but then she heard it. A soft rustle, something squeaking, like his mattress. Very faint- in fact, she’d later wonder _how_ she even heard it out in the hallway.

Worried now, what is Eddie had gotten in and was waiting for Jack? He wasn’t that crazy- he hadn’t been the best influence on Jack, though, she knew. He’d helped him heal in a sense, helped him move on from the trauma of his childhood, but he’d only encouraged self destructive tendencies- and had plenty of his own.

Pulling out her key, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, dropping her key the moment the door was open and she could see the living room.

Eddie’s ruined portrait lay on the floor, smeared with something dark, and despite there being no lights and the curtains being drawn, she could see streaks in the carpet. She took a few steps in and realized it was dry, a dark rust and _oh god it was blood_.

She stopped in the doorway and looked over at the bathroom. She could see the broken mirror, the sink pink with blood- still fresh looking, and the splatters of it all over the bathroom tiles.

She heard the squeak of the mattress and turned, heading straight for the bedroom, her steps quickening with each breath. She threw the door open and stared into the near dark, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

Jack was sitting on the bed, shirt torn off, fingers red and sticky, tracing a large grinning face onto his chest. His face was freshly painted in a bloody grin, and Harley couldn’t tell where he was bleeding from at this point.

She rushed over, reaching for him, grabbing the hand that was painting his chest. “Jack!” she cried, and when he looked up with his green eyes, there wasn’t a trace of him there.

Harley tapped her foot every few moments when she’d stop pacing, before she began again. She wasn’t allowed back where they were stitching Jack up, and instead stood in the hospital waiting room, unable to sit still. She looked at her phone every few minutes to check the time, trying to remember when they took Jack back.

She heard the footsteps before she saw him. But when Bruce came into view she waited until he was closer, until he was opening his mouth to ask why she had asked him to rush over, and then her fist was connecting with that handsome jaw and making him stumble back.

Shocked, Bruce reached up to cradle it, and Harley readied another.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t beat you into oblivion,” she hissed, and if the busy nurses noticed, they didn’t care. Bruce stared at her, confused, and shoved her arm away.

“What the hell,” he said, standing up. “You call me over here in a panic and don’t explain anything, and then _attack_ me.”

“He was supposed to be with you!”

Confused, Bruce opened his mouth- and then it clicked. _Jack_. “What’s happened to Jack?” His voice broke at his name, and Harley narrowed her eyes.

“He broke the fuck down,” she said, “and I wanna know _why_. Why wasn’t he with you?”

“I...I...” Bruce hesitated, before he pulled his phone out and checked his calls. Sure enough, Jack had called him when he had been with Talia- and it had been picked up. _She’d spoken to him_.

“Bruce.” It was stern, and he looked up, dark eyes defeated.

“She came back, and I swear Harley, I was just talking to her and telling her we were through. I wasn’t in the room...she, she must have answered his call. Fuck, I don’t know what she said-“

“Doesn’t matter,” Harley said, “You were with someone else, and Jack got that. That’s all he needed. If he dies, I swear to god Bruce, I will fucking kill you. I will tear you piece by fucking piece apart-“

“What do you mean _die_?” Bruce asked, face going pale, and Harley couldn’t keep the anger in her eyes.

“He was bleeding out everywhere Bruce. He...he’s a mess.” Slumping down into a chair, Harley explained the state she had found him in- the way he had painted himself, the stains in the carpet, the broken mirror- and the creepy self portrait he had done in blood and black ink, where his scars were opening up into a big red grin.

Bruce sat down next to her, shaking.

“They didn’t tell me shit when they took him back,” Harley said, pressing her forehead into her palm. “They just took him away and wouldn’t tell me anything. God, I should have known this was coming. They changed his meds after the last breakdown and it just isn’t enough. I should have seen that this was going to happen-“

“Don’t blame yourself,” Bruce said.

“No, you’re right,” she said, straightening up. “I’ll blame you. And fucking Eddie for coming back.”

“Who?”

“Jack’s ex,” she said. “The ex that came at the time when he needed to heal the most, and left him a broken mess because Eddie can’t keep it in his pants. Jack was so devastated, it took forever to get him back to the point he’s at. But they changed his meds, and I don’t think it’s ever been enough. The stress gets to him so badly.”

Bruce didn’t say anything for a moment. He wanted to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. Before he could, a Doctor was walking toward them, and Harley was jumping to their feet.

“Miss Quinzel?” he asked, and she nodded. “Your friend is patched up. He lost a lot of blood- I’m impressed he was conscious. He’s sedated right now, but he should make a full recovery. I’ve gone ahead and called his personal psychiatrist, Dr. Crane. We’re going to want to consult with him on what is going to be the safest move for Jack from here.”

Harley nodded. “Can...can I see him?”

The man hesitated, then nodded. “For a few minutes,” he said, “We don’t want to put stress on him. You two can have a few minutes- then go home. I’ll have someone call you in the morning.”

Harley nodded and the doctor turned to lead them down the hall. Bruce followed before he was invited- but for all her anger, Harley didn’t stop him.

The doctor left them in the open doorway to Jack’s room, heading off to another patient no doubt, and the two stood there, looking in. The room was dark, and Jack lay on the sheets, hair fanned out, eyes closed. The machine he was hooked up to was beeping, a steady, annoying sound that reminded them he was still alive- but there had been a chance he hadn’t been.

Harley walked in, Bruce behind, and stepped up to the bed. She reached out and took his hand, stroking his soft skin.

“Oh Puddin’,” she whispered, and looked away. No, she wouldn’t cry. She’d bawled when he broke the first time- she’d bawled so much for Jack because _someone_ had to cry for him.

Bruce reached out and covered their hand with his, squeezing.

“Jack,” he whispered. “Oh god, I’m sorry Jack. It’s...it wasn’t...she...” His voice broke, and Bruce gave up, hanging his head. Harley leaned against him, the anger gone- and the two stood watching over the one love that connected them.

“He’s a fighter,” Harley whispered as they walked out of the hospital. The night was dark, rather cold, and the world seemed empty around them. She plopped down on a bench, exhausted, and Bruce sat next to her. “All his life he has been. God, he just needs a break. Someone else to fight for him for once.”

“Harley-“

“Save it for him, Bruce,” she said, reaching over and patting his knee. “I’m sorry I punched you. I’m not happy you ended up with whatever her name is instead of taking Jack, but...but you’re here, and you care. And Jack will understand when he wakes up.” She looked down. “But Bruce...you need to know, Jack he...he’s gonna need help. He’s going to need a lot of help. He never got all that he needed, and I just hope it’s not too late.”

She looked over at him, her eyes sad. “You need to know about him, Bruce. You need to know what created that beautiful disaster.”

And when Harley spoke, Bruce listened. He listened and pictured Jack at the age of thirteen, beautiful and blonde and unscarred and just wanting some sort of love. His parents didn’t care- mom was a prescription drug addict, dad an alcoholic with at least two girlfriends at the time. Neither had time for the kid they had never meant to have, but couldn’t afford to abort. Neither cared what he did or didn’t do.

Jack just wanted someone to care. So when a highschooler was paying attention to him on his walks home, living in the same part of town, Jack was smitten by him. Old enough to want, young enough to not truly know, Jack began to worship the ground this guy walked on.

So, when he asked Jack to sneak out one night to see him, Jack obeyed. He climbed out of his window while mom lay passed out and dad jerked it to some nasty VHS porn, and snuck out to the old bridge with the graffiti, thinking he’d get something he didn’t quite know he wanted.

And yeah, the guy was there waiting- and he kissed Jack, still naive, still sweet- and he ran his hands over him and when he got too handsy too fast and Jack tried to push him away, he changed. He growled and shoved him to the ground, called out and that was when the other two appeared, friends of his, and the grabbed Jack and hoisted him up to his knees, holding him steady while the guy unzipped his jeans.

Jack shook because he was scared and he didn’t know what to do- but he didn’t want to scream because _what would people think anyway_ but when a hand went behind his head and shoved his face into the guy’s crotch, he opened his mouth and let a broken sound escape. When the guy’s erection filled the gap and cut off the cry, Jack choked and couldn’t move because his mouth was tiny and _he was so little_ and he was sobbing.

“Shut up,” the guy had growled, sneering down at him, “you wanted this, whaddya think would happen?” But when Jack just couldn’t handle him, he pulled out and crouched down. “Hold ‘em,” he said to his two buddies, and they held Jack tight. He reached out and gripped his chin, pinched his cheeks, jerked his head this way and that and examined in. “Just too small,” he said with a _tsk_ and reached into his pocket, pulling out a slim, sleek object that Jack couldn’t make out in the dark. But he recognized the sound of a switch blade opening, and tried to thrash. One of the guys kicked him in the side, knocked the wind out of him, and his lower jaw was grasped and his mouth pulled open.

“Gonna have to fix that, Jackie boy,” the guy said, slipping the blade in his mouth. “Smile big for me.” And then he slashed, and Jack felt skin part like silk and open into fire. He gave a loud, muffled cry, and the other cheek was slashed as well. Then his mouth was forced open beyond its natural capacity, and that cock shoved back inside to mix with blood and saliva and the death of a child.

All three took him, until the fire in his cheeks was a dull ache and the blood and soaked down his neck and the collar of his t-shirt. He vomited after the first, and it stung like acid and they beat him for it, so broken now he couldn’t fight back.

When they were done they left him like that, and he lay in the dirt bleeding and crying, until he knew if he didn’t pick himself up he would die. He should have died, that was what he thought most nights after, after he’d gone home and his parents had seen him as a mess and had had no other option but to drag him to the hospital- how he felt when people laughed that he was raped because _he was a boy_ and he must have wanted it, and they wouldn;t soil the names of good kids for the likes of him.

How he felt when he looked in the mirror everyday and saw the monster they had created, saw the scars that he felt told the whole world his life story- whore, broken, worthless. The death of a child.

When Harley finally stopped, she was crying. She cried because she could see it, even if she didn’t enter Jack’s life until years later- until he was fifteen, and then when she was leaving the town when he was seventeen he had gone with her, because she couldn’t leave him there. Gotham was the new start he needed, the way to get away from the past, to make a new story for his scars.

Instead, it seemed to only repeat tragedy.

“No one ever paid for what happened to him,” Harley said, “No one ever bled and cried like he did. No one _died_ like he did. The boy deserves someone’s blood for his. He deserves to get some fucking peace. I just want him to get peace, Bruce. That’s all. If I had it my way, this mess would have never happened and Jack would be mine, but I know that can’t happen. I need someone who can take care of him Bruce. I need someone who can show him that he deserves to live, even twelve years later. He never got the therapy he needed. When he finally started seeing Dr. Crane, so long had gone by and he needed help with his sensory issues. I need help, Bruce.”

Bruce reached over and took Harley’s hand, squeezing it. Jack came with more baggage than he could have imagined- yet, somehow, he didn’t seem to care. All he knew was the boy he’d grown so fond of was laying in a hospital bed, and he was just wanted to hold him and tell him...tell him...

What?

_That I love him_.

“I’ll heal him,” Bruce said, “no matter how long it takes. Jack won’t hurt again. I’ll get him all the therapy he needs, the meds. Fuck, I’ll give him the damn city if it helps.”

“Just give him you,” Harley said, and Bruce smiled at her.

“I already did that.”

Harley got a call the next morning. She was in her car and calling Bruce before she knew what time it was, and somehow he got to the hospital steps after her. She wondered if he had slept in his car on the street or something.

“He’s awake,” the doctor told them, “and fairly coherent too.” Harley and Bruce nodded and walked in, found Jack sitting in his bed tracing the hospital bracelet secure around his wrist. He looked up and paled when he saw them, and Harley spoke before he could.

“Jackie, let us explain,” she said, “Let Bruce explain Puddin’.”

Jack turned to him, eyes placid and cool, medicated but still there, and Bruce felt his throat close up. He swallowed.

“Jack...I...Talia came back,” he admitted, “I was with her when you called. I had to tell her we were done. She answered when I wasn’t in the room I’m assuming, before I could. I told her I’d found someone- and I didn’t need her now. I wouldn’t need her again.” He took a step closer. “Please Jack, I wasn’t with her because I didn’t want you. I was with her because I _do_ want you. More than ever, than anything.”

He reached out for Jack’s hand, took it. It was cold, small, and he closed both of his around it, felt the fingers flex.

“Harley...Harley told me things, Jack. She told me everything. And I...I want to help. I want to be here for you. You’re beautiful, Jack. God.” He lost his breath, saw those eyes lit up a bit. “God Jack, I love you.”

Jack choked on a sob then, and was reaching for Bruce. Bruce pulled him into his arms, holding him tight and burying his face in his hair, squeezing to make sure he was really there. Jack dug his fingers into his shoulders and sobbed about how he was stupid and sorry and he needed help- he knew that.

“We’ll get you help,” Bruce whispered, “And Harley and I will help you too. We’ll get through this, Jackie. We’ll get through all of it.”

He leaned back enough to find Jack’s mouth- to kiss him and delve into him, try to suck all the pain out of his bones and take it inside him. Bruce would swallow all of it if he could, just to make Jack smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, those are 2 heavy hitting chapters. I didn't want to post 9 without 10, so I apologize for the tiny wait. Also, if anyone was unable to read due to the content, let me know, I can fill you in without all immense detail.
> 
> This is not the end, either. I've got at least a few more chapters planned.
> 
> I also _really_ wanted a tragic, sick story behind Jack's scars. And now I feel a little bad.


	11. Chapter 11

Harley was on her hands and knees in Jack’s apartment, spreading carpet cleaner into one of the stains. Next to her, Jack was doing the same. He’d spent three days in the hospital, before both his attending doctor and Dr. Crane had agreed he could be released- but only into supervised care for the time being. They wanted someone near Jack at all times, until Dr. Crane saw fit- which, he had assured Harley, he didn’t think would be too long. He’d start Jack on three times weekly therapy with him, new meds, and he thought within a week or two, Jack would be back to normal.

He had high hopes for him, despite his lapses. He had high hopes because, he claimed, none of these breakdowns had been attempts on his own life. Harley felt somewhat relieved, but she knew she’d feel better when they were sure the new meds were working.

Jack seemed almost himself as he helped her clean up the disaster he had left behind. He smiled and they talked and he laughed- but the bandages on his arms were constant reminders of the stitches he’d needed, of the harm he had done.

“If this ever happens again,” he was saying, “please convince me to go crazy on tile. Fucking carpet.”

Harley laughed at that, reaching over the shove him lovingly. She stood up and went into the bathroom with her broom, sweeping up the remaining glass on the floor. A knock sounded on the door while Harley was working, and Jack got up and walked over to it, opening the door.

The emerald eyes and cocky smile that waited for him made his heart stop.

“Babe-“

“Fucking no,” Jack said, about to close the door in Ed’s face, but he grabbed it to keep it open.

“Jackie c’mon, you’ve been gone for days, where the hell-“ He stopped when he noticed all the bandages on Jack’s arms, the mess in the apartment behind him. Whatever words he had died in his throat, and he just stared at Jack.

“I was in the hospital,” Jack admitted. “And you’re not helping my recovery at all. Get out. Go away. Don’t come see me again, Eddie. We’re done. We’ve been done. I’m not bending over for you anymore. Find another fuck toy, you gave this one up when you left the last time.”

He felt sure of his words- calmer than he had. Maybe he’d gotten it all out, maybe the new meds were working, maybe it was both. Either way, he felt in control.

“Jack-“

“Eddie, listen.” He stepped into the hallway, felt the open, dusty air. “We’re not going to patch this up. I’m past being your friend. I’m past being your anything. You tore me apart, twice now. You need to leave, you need to forget I exist just like I’m trying to forget you exist.”

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyes had darkened a shade it seemed- did he look remorseful? Jack almost thought he did.

“We just weren’t right,” Eddie said with a shrug of his shoulder, and Jack nodded.

“I needed too much, you needed too many.” Eddie gave him a soft smile.

“You still have the best ass in this city, babe.”

Jack laughed at that- laughed because it was okay, because he needed this. He needed to face Eddie and let him go, forever.

“Hopefully my boyfriend would agree with you on that.”

“Maybe I should have a talk with him. Give him some pointers.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“He won’t need them when we get to that point.” Eddie chuckled.

“Taking it slow-“

“None of your business.” Jack wasn’t sharp when he said it, but firm. He didn’t want to delve into he and Bruce’s sex life- he didn’t want to take this conversation much further. What needed to be said had been said, it was done.

Eddie realized too, and gave him a nod of the head, a “It was fun babe,” and he was walking away, and Jack felt something lift from his body.

He didn’t tell Harley about it, he kept it his little secret, but he did tell Dr. Crane the next day at therapy. He felt alive telling him about Eddie, about how he had finally closed that door. Crane asked how cleaning up the apartment felt- he had specifically told Harley Jack had to have a hand in it- and Jack said it sucked. It reminded him of the mess he was.

And how was Bruce?

Picking him up that afternoon for a nice night in with some friends. Bruce would watch over him so Harley could have her life back for a night.

And Bruce was on the dot. He had driven himself over to Jack’s, gave him a sweet kiss when he opened the door, and it felt like everything was falling back into place.

The penthouse was warm and inviting, and Jack was pleased to see they had company. Dick and Jason were already settled on one couch, bickering playfully about something- but grew quiet when Jack walked in.

“Hey kid,” Jason said, “heard you got yourself into some trouble.”

Jack shrugged a shoulder and settled down on the opposite couch. “Nothing a little TLC won’t fix.”

Jason nodded but didn’t smile- Jack felt there was something left there, but he turned instead to Bruce who was settling in with him, wrapping a firm arm around him to pull him in for an embrace. Dick had gotten first call on the choice of movie, and it was some romantic comedy that Jack didn’t recognize. He didn’t sray too far from horror movies- the worse the better- but he was content to focus on Bruce’s arms around him and the small kisses he’d pepper on his neck from time to time. Jack wiggled around in his lap and dared to let his hands grip his thighs and tease him a bit, which would get him a low growl from Bruce and then a chuckle.

The movie was only half hour when Jason was untangling from Dick. “I need a cigarette,” he was saying, but he stared at Jack the whole time.

“Want some company?” Jack asked, “I uh, I promised Harley I’d call her and let her know I’m okay. I should do that before it gets too late.”

If Bruce questioned his reasoning, he didn’t show it, and let Jack free of his arms to follow Jason to the elevator and down.

Jack expected Jason to say something on the ride down. Some sort of explanation. But he was quiet. He tapped his cigarette packet, freed one, and held it between his lips while he waited. When he stepped off, he barely waited for Jack, who had to hurry after him.

He watched Jason light it, take a long drag, and exhale.

“Dick told me all of it,” he finally said, watching Jack through the smoke. “Bruce told him. Didn’t want to breach your privacy, but Bruce was fucked up after what you did. Worried as hell about you, kid. He needed someone to talk to. And what Dick hears, I hear.” He took another long drag.

“Are you mad?” Jack asked, a little nervous, and Jason eyed him.

“Mad? At you? No. No kid, not you. I’m mad it came to this, because frankly I _like_ you. I knew Talia, I knew all the brainless things Bruce fucked in-between. And I hated them. But you, I like. Maybe it’s because you’re like me. Maybe it’s because you don’t fit in with them, but whatever the fuck it is, I like you. I was worried to.” He took one last drag and tossed the cigarette away, reaching for Jack and pulling him closer. For a moment Jack flashed back to the taste of cigarette and mint and had to admit it was enticing- if Bruce wasn’t some dark form of his knight in shining armor, he’d be praying that Jason closed the gap and kissed him, made him whimper against the smooth walls of the building.

Instead Jason just looked at him, and Jack gave him a little smile.

“If you ever need something,” he said, “ _anything_ , you let me know. Bruce is a good guy. Dick’s a good guy. But you and I- we know what it’s like to fight to survive. They don’t. And they’ll try to understand, but part of them never will. I’ll listen Jack. Just don’t...don’t pull shit like that again.”

Jack’s smile broadened, and Jason tussled his curls.

“I swear I won’t,” he whispered, and for a moment wondered what Jason had gone through himself to be such a kindred spirit.

He did text Harley on the elevator ride back up to the penthouse that everything was fine, so when Bruce asked how she was and he said fine, he didn’t feel like he was lying.

Alfred popped in at some point during the evening, much to Bruce’s dismay- who reminded him he had told Alfred to take the night off, please, he needed some time away from Bruce- but Alfred had laughed.

“Just here to check on your friend,” he said, staring right at Jack. “Good to see you well, sir.”

Jack smiled at him, and felt Bruce’s arms squeeze him tighter.

When Dick and Jason finally left that night, it was technically no longer night, but early morning. Jack curled up in bed with Bruce and drifted off in his arms, content. No alarm woke them, and when they did finally get around to moving- as Jack was as Bruce lovingly put it, “a cuddle fiend in the morning”- they showered, to Jack’s sadness separately- and made their way leisurely down to Bruce’s car.

He needed to stop by his office really quickly, then he was going to take Jack out for brunch. He promised him it wouldn’t take long- but Jack didn’t mind either way. In the car he fiddled with the sleeves of his green plaid button down, left open over an old horror movie t-shirt, trying to make sure it hid the bandages they had just changed before they left.

Once at the office, Jack expected Bruce to leave him on his own for a bit, but he just took Jack’s hand and led him to the elevator, even putting his arm around him in it- despite them not being alone. While everyone greeted Bruce, they eyed him and Jack with wide, confused stares. Jack held his head high and couldn’t care less- he would parade Bruce around if he had the chance.

Bruce greeted the secretary, who gave a sharp, cranky hello, and stared at Jack with a frown. He considered flipping her off, but decided against it and instead clung to Bruce’s hand harder.

Once in Bruce’s office, Jack looked around a bit while he gathered up the papers he was bringing home. Jack was about to take one of the books off the shelf when there was a knock at the door, and a head popped in.

“Mr. Wayne, there’s a meeting starting in five minutes and the director sent me to ask you if you’d be able to attend.” Tim glanced away from Bruce and saw Jack. He walked in and smiled, and Jack gave him a little wave.

“Tell him I won’t be in the office today or tomorrow,” Bruce said, “I’m taking a few days off.”

“Yes sir,” Tim said, nodding, and Jack walked over.

“And if he gives you any trouble, let us know so Brucie can kick his ass.” He winked, and Tim openly laughed, before covering his mouth quickly and looking at Bruce- his eyes nervous. Bruce just smiled at him.

“I certainly will. Now Jack, let him get back to his work.” Jack smiled at Tim, who smiled back and slipped out.

Two days uninterrupted with Bruce felt like heaven. Despite it’s overly innocent qualities, he enjoyed just having some time to spend with him, and he’d rather bed down with him any night then sleep alone. He was sad to see it end when Bruce dropped him off for therapy, but he knew he still had things to do- a company to run.

“So Jack,” Dr. Crane was saying as Jack settled down. “Tell me, how are things?”

“Good,” Jack said. “I just spent a few days with Bruce. I’m getting my stitches out tomorrow. And I’ll get the chance to do some work tonight.”

“Will Harley be with you?”

“Later, yeah,” Jack said. “I’ll have a few hours alone. With everyone having their cell phones on a loud enough ring to wake the dead, I’m sure. Disapprove?”

“No,” Dr. Crane said, “No, I don’t. I told Harley, and I’ve had it noted in your files, I don’t see you as a threat. Not to anyone, only yourself- and that isn’t as great as people seem to think. I don’t think you were trying to kill yourself, though some people would argue. You were trying to get something out. I’ve got high hopes and a lot of faith in your new medications, and your stricter therapy schedule. But everyone needs a few hours to themselves. I hope you enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. He would, he assured him.

He painted those few hours. He worked on pieces that had been sitting around for longer than he dared to admit- new pieces too, including more of Bruce with his cape and Bat-like mask. And the picture of Eddie he had smeared his blood all over- he dumped it into his trash can. It was finished, and it needed no other audience but himself.

When Harley got there that night, Jack was on the couch, on the phone with Oswald. Harley locked the door behind her and walked over, dropping her purse on the floor and giving Jack a half wave as he spoke.

“I’m serious Oswald, almost all of them. You get first dibs before I decide to open the market. I’ll keep selling prints of course, and I’ll keep a few pieces to put out in your exhibits and such, but it’s finally time. Yeah, yeah, that’ll work. Stop by over the weekend, you can go through them with me and we’ll work something out.” He nodded. “Uh-huh, yeah, I look forward to it. See you then.”

He hung up as Harley sat down, staring at him.

“Jack...were you-“

“I’m selling them,” he said, setting his phone aside. “Oswald will be over this weekend for first picks. He wants some for his gallery, and some for his personal collection. Then I’ll open it up to the public. I’ve got a few pieces I intend to keep, but you were right. You’re always right- it’s time to let them go.”

Harley smiled and took Jack’s hand, squeezing it.

He went alone to get his stitches removed the next day. Harley had gone to a lecture, and Bruce was locked in a meeting. He didn’t mind, thought it would have been nice to have someone to give him reassuring looks when the nurse glared at him as she removed them. Still, he walked out of the hospital after, feeling relieved. He’d get some new scars, but he had those all over, a few more wouldn’t hurt.

The weather was nice, and Jack considered a walk, but wanted to hit his apartment first and do a little more cleaning. He needed to put more cleaner on the carpet, and try to figure out what he wanted to do about a new mirror. He began the walk up his apartment stairs, only to reach his hallway and see a round, harsh woman waiting at his door.

“Oh, hi,” he said, giving his landlady a small wave. “What’s up?”

“Your rent,” she said, matter-of-factly, and Jack frowned.

“Yeah, next week.”

“Considering the destruction I’ve heard you caused, I’d say this week. Plus extra for the damages to the carpet.”

Jack stared, his mind racing to try to think of all the cash he had. It was minimal- he’d been so wrapped up in Bruce he hadn’t focused on selling prints, and then with this whole breakdown, it had slipped completely from his mind.

“Give me a few days,” Jack said, “and I’ll get the rent. And let me know how much extra for the damages- I’ll get that after.”

“Now or never, Jack.”

“I don’t have it now,” he admitted, folding his arms. “I’m flat ass broke, frankly. But with a few days I can get some prints sold, and I’ve got something lined up this weekend that will bring in enough rent for a few months, probably. Or more-“

“I don’t trust your plans, Jack,” she said, frowning, her brow creasing unflatteringly. “You’re too unstable. I should have known when I let you move in, the first time you were late with rent, but I’ve been letting it slide. I even let it go after that first breakdown you had. But no more. You’re a fucking hazard, and I won’t stand for it anymore. Rent by tomorrow morning, or pack your things, and clear out of the apartment and your shit from my attic.”

She stormed past him, and Jack hesitated a moment, before sneaking into his apartment and closing the door behind him with a sigh.

He reached up and rubbed his temples, groaning. This was the _last_ thing he needed. He had to think, and think _fast_. He couldn’t ask Harley to front him the money- she was a student and had her own slew of financial issues, besides, he’d feel terrible. She’d helped him so much over the years with everything, he needed to stop needing her so much.

His only option was to sell his work, but it wouldn’t happen over night. If he could get Oswald to come over and pick something out, but he wasn’t even available until the weekend. He literally had nothing.

Jack walked into the kitchen and drummed his fingers on the counter. He was out of options, except...

_Bruce_.

Jack shook his head. No, no way. He wouldn’t ask Bruce to do something like that- it’d be like using him. There was just no way.

Jack took a deep breath, and told himself it was okay. He had his rent paid until the end of the month, she couldn’t kick him out. He’d just have to tell her in the morning he didn’t have it, and look for a new place. Oswald would definitely be buying come the weekend, and that would give him plenty to pay up front for rent somewhere else. Plus there would be other buyers.

Jack decided that walk sounded like a splendid idea now.

He didn’t have a plan, and started by heading up the sidewalk and made his way through the city, hands in his pockets, taking everything in. He had his camera around his neck _just in case_ , and as the sky was beginning to darken- a little early, Jack noted, and that it smelled of rain- he reached central park. Smiling, he walked through, the park quiet and cool compared to the busy afternoon he had spent here with Bruce what felt like a lifetime ago.

He settled down on that same bench and ran his fingers over his camera idly, staring off at the trees and wondering if they remembered him- as stupid as that sounded. Did they remember the boy in love who had been here early, who had kissed a man whose lips tasted like vanilla ice cream and wondered what he had done to get so lucky.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, kid.”

Jack’s head jerked up, and familiar baby blue eyes stared at him as a line of cigarette smoke lifted into the air. Jason walked over and sat down next to Jack, plucking the cigarette from his lips.

“All alone?” Jack nodded. “I thought you had to be have a babysitter.” His eyes were laughing at that, so Jack didn’t take offense.

“I deserve a little time to myself,” he admitted, “besides, my friend Harley had a lecture today, and Bruce had meetings. I’m sure one of them will be calling any second to figure out who gets to babysit me tonight.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But the doc says he thinks I’m pretty fine on my own.”

Jason just nodded and flicked his cigarette butt away, pulling out a fresh one and lighting it. He took a drag, then held it out to Jack, a smirk on his lips.

Jack eyed him for a second, before he took it and took a long drag, exhaling in one smooth motion and handing it back. If Jason was waiting for him to choke, he would be disappointed.

“Didn’t picture you a smoker.”

“I’ve done a lot of shit in my day,” Jack admitted, “and with the day I’m having, I needed that.”

“Care to share?”

Jack shrugged a shoulder. “Not really. Getting kicked out of my apartment because my landlady is crazy. She always has been, really, and always treated me like shit, but for the most part I never see her. I’ve had my rough patches with my art though, and I’ve been late on rent before, so I took it because she let me slide. But my latest breakdown was too much, and now I’ve gotta scout for a new place to live, seeing as I can’t get her rent by tomorrow. Until I sell some art, I’m flat broke.”

Jack was rather impressed with how calm he sounded, how calm he actually was. Jason listened, dragged on the cigarette, and said without much hesitation,

“Why don’t you just crash with Bruce?”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, he wants his crazy-ass boyfriend who he’s been dating for what, two weeks now, if we count the whole courtship as dating, to suddenly move in. I think that’s over stepping some boundaries, as much as I’d enjoy it.”

Jason frowned, then tossed the cigarette.

“So stay with Dick and I for a little while, until you find a new place. He won’t care- hell, he’ll probably sit there and watch you paint for hours. The man is still a huge fan.” 

Jack stared at him, then reached over and took his hand- bigger than Jack’s, rougher- and squeezed it.

“You’re too sweet,” he said, “but I’ll be fine. Really.” Jason sighed, and Jack squeezed his hand again. “So, gonna ever let me in as to why you care so goddamn much about me? You barely know me, after all.”

Jason took Jack’s hand and lifted it, examining it.

“I got kicked out when I was fifteen,” he said, “lived on the street for a year, until I made enough cash under the table at odd jobs to afford a shitty apartment with a few other guys. I lived like that most of my life, really. Too many roommates, everyone’s high, and I worked shit jobs that barely paid enough to feed anyone. I’d still be like that if I hadn’t met Dick. I don’t know what he saw in me- I still don’t know what he sees in me, but he used to follow me around until I caved and would go on dates with him. Before I knew it, he was packing my shit and _making_ me move in with him, giving me jobs to do for his circus- stupid, pointless job titles that basically meant I listened to his ideas and fucked his brains out and got paid for it. He gave me a whole new life- but I never forgot all the years before.”

Jack knew there was more, much more behind those baby blues, but he didn’t ask. Just let Jason examine his hand, before he released it.

“Dick likes you- that was one of the reasons I ever bothered to care. If Dick cares, I do. I put up with Bruce because Dick loves him. I put up with Christmas music from October through January because it makes Dick smile. I go dancing with him because it makes him feel hot and wanted.” He stopped for a moment, long enough for Jack to feel his thoughts in the air- feel the intensity in him for Dick.

“You’d go to hell for him, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d die for him,” Jason said, as if it didn’t meant a thing. “People like to say I’m just using him, that I’m just there for his money. But I’m really just not interested in acting love sick in public. I love Dick, more than I’ll ever be able to admit.”

Jack watched Jason for a moment, before he stood up and turned to face him. He leaned down, wrapped his arms around Jason, and hugged him. Jason sat there a moment, before his arms wrapped around Jack and he held him tight.

Jack didn’t doubt what he saw in Jason’s eyes- it was awe. It was what he saw in his own eyes in the mirror, when he thought of Bruce.

When he crawled into his bed that night, after a call to Harley and a call to Bruce to let them knew he was okay, he settled in for his first night alone. Before drifting off, he scrolled through the images on his camera, stopping at the very last image, of Jason on the bench with cigarette smoke drifting up towards his eyes.

He smiled, drifting off with the gears of his mind turning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tying up loose ends so I can create more!


	12. Chapter 12

When Jack woke the next day, he showered, dressed, and went straight down to his landlady. With a rather calm smile on his face, he told her he’d be moving, so not to expect next month’s rent. He did, however, request that she write something up for him so he could pay for the damages he had caused to the apartment- even if they had been cleaned up.

Then he called Harley and went out to lunch, acting as if not a thing had happened.

When the end of the week rolled around, and he was toying with his hair to make sure he looked presentable for Oswald, he still hadn’t uttered a word to her or Bruce. In fact, beyond him and his landlady, only Jason knew- and if he spoke, Bruce didn’t hint at it.

Oswald knew where Jack’s apartment was- he’d been over a handful of times in the past, always on some sort of business. When there was a knock on his door, Jack knew it had to be him, and was greeted by his large, smiling face.

“Jack my boy,” he said, “good to see you!”

“Nice to see you too,” Jack said, stepping out and closing his door. “C’mon this way.”

“Right to business Jackie, that’s my boy. You know how valuable my time is. Always liked that.” Jack unlocked the door that led to the attic, and they climbed the narrow stairs. Up top, the light that lit the room filtered in through one smudged window, and Jack apologized that the light bulb was busted.

“No worried, I know your work from memory,” Oswald said, staring at the almost endless rows of canvases and frames paper. “So what’s off limits, Jack?”

“Nothing,” Jack said, “it’s all up. Though, I’d prefer to put the Harlequin series in your gallery than sell it- I think you’d make more money that way.”

“Oh my boy,” Oswald said, lifting up a small canvas, “You know me so well.”

Jack walked Oswald from his apartment, carrying the pieces for him to his car. He loaded it for him, shook his hand, and Oswald handed him a check for the pieces he was taking. He wanted more, he said, but _quite frankly his car only held so much_ , and Jack had laughed and said to just call him when he was ready to look again.

And he’d get the Harlequin series over to his gallery soon.

“Remember boy,” Oswald said, opening his car door, “that young artist expo is coming up. Will you have some new pieces to showcase? Wouldn’t be a show without you.”

“Of course,” Jack said, “I’ll have some. Just let me know how much space I get.”

Oswald laughed. “You’re Jack Napier. You get the whole city if you want it. Now, you take care of yourself. No more silly stunts, we can’t afford to lose you.”

Jack waved as he climbed in and drove off, then left straight for the bank. His meager checking account was thankful for Oswald’s generous addition, but he still had to find an apartment before his rent ran out, which would be the next big task. This time, he’d find somewhere he actually wanted to live- within reason, of course.

He wasn’t back in his apartment more than a few minutes before his phone was ringing. He saw Bruce’s name and smiled, unlocking it and saying in a purr, “Hey there _sugar_.”

Bruce chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jack said, flopping down on his couch. “Missing you. When can I see you?” It had been a good two days since Jack had actually seen Bruce- and while he understood, it was still depressing.

“How about now? Can I come over, I want to talk to you about something?”

“Am I in trouble?” Jack asked, half teasing, and when Bruce laughed his nerves eased.

“No, no, not at all. So, can I?”

“You’d better,” Jack said with a grin.

When Bruce showed up shortly after, Jack greeted him with his arms around his neck and a sweet kiss- the kind that made Bruce’s toes tingle and required that he wrap an arm around Jack’s waist to tether him to the Earth. Jack disentangled himself after a few moments to lead Bruce to the couch, and draped himself on him, assaulting him again with his soft lips and for a moment, Bruce could forget why he’d come over.

“Jack,” he said between kisses, “Can.” Kiss. “We.” Kiss. “Talk?” Kiss.

Jack leaned back, playing with the ends of Bruce’s hair against his neck.

“Alright,” he said, although he wanted to lay Bruce on the couch and kiss his clothes away. “Talk to me, sugar.”

Bruce ran his hand along the curve of Jack’s hip. “A business associate of mine is having a bit of a get together next weekend,” he said, “I was just wondering if you’d want to come with me?”

Jack raised one delicate blonde eyebrow. “You mean in public?”

“Well, yeah, it would be public.”

“But uh, Brucie baby...are you sure? I mean, we’ve been pretty private so far- am I going as some crazy friend you just picked up?”

“No, “ Bruce said with a smile, “No, you’d be going as my boyfriend.” He clutched Jack a bit tighter. “Please come with me, Jack.”

“Well, when you ask like that,” he said, leaning in and pressing his forehead to Bruce’s, “How can I say no?” Bruce smiled and kissed him quickly.

“Great! Then we’ll need to go out and get you fitted for a tux.”

“A...a what? Woah baby, what sort of get together is this again?”

“The kind with champagne that costs more than a car,” Bruce said, and Jack paled a little. _What am I getting myself into?_

Jack thought maybe there would be a chance for it all to sink in, but Bruce had ushered him to his car, taken him down to the rich part of Gotham’s prime shopping district, and had an older woman with a thick accent measuring him as he stood on a silly little platform.

“Babe, are you sure,” Jack was saying, as she grabbed his arm and lifted it up, measuring. She yanked his long sleeve up to see exactly where his wrist was, and he blushed when his bandages became visible.

“Absolutely,” Bruce was saying, typing something on his phone. Jack sighed, hanging his head, until the woman snapped at him to stand up straight.

Jack heard Bruce discussing the bill for a custom tuxedo- and one on such short notice- with the woman, and thought part of him died at the price. He’d said so to Bruce when they were back in the car, but Bruce just laughed it off and said not to worry, he didn’t mind at all.

Jack looked down at his hands in that moment, realizing Bruce _couldn’t_ fathom what a big deal it was to him, because it never had been to him, nor would it be.

Harley was laughing, whole-heartedly- the kind that sank down into her gut and made her insides nearly hurt with joy. Pamela was laughing with her, elegant fingers wrapped around her glass at the bar, long red nails clinking against it as she laughed.

“You’re too much,” she said, wiping a stray tear from one of her green eyes. “Oh Harl, how did I ever have any fun without you?”

“I dunno, do plants tell good jokes?” she asked with a cheesy grin, and Pamela giggled.

“Sadly no. They’re not great company- better than most people, but they don’t quite compare to you sweetheart.”

“Aw red, you flatter me.” Harley blushed a little, felt her heart racing, and took a drink from her glass because she needed to do _something_ while Pam was staring at her. Something in her eyes was intense, and it made Harley shake a little. She’d wanted this for so long, but now her mind was fuzzy with an overdose on the woman, and she didn’t know if she was reading the signs right or if it was all just _wishful thinking_.

“Do you need to check on your friend?” Pam asked as she signaled for another round of drinks, and Harley shook her head.

“Jack? No, he’s fine. He’s with his boyfriend tonight, Bruce will call me if there’s an issue.”

“To think, big bad Bruce Wayne is gay,” Pamela said, sipping her fresh drink, and Harley blushed a little.

“Not so loud, I don’t want anyone to hear,” she said, a little nervous. “Bruce and Jack aren’t...well, they’re not _that_ public yet. It’s happening, but slowly. And I don’t think he’s gay at all- Jack is just what he needs. Why put so many labels on things? Jack always said that. Always hated labels.”

Pamela was quiet, gave a nod, and Harley sighed.

“I’m sorry. We were having such fun and I go off-“

“Oh Harley,” Pam said, “Hush girl. Drink more, laugh more, worry less. You do enough of that.”

Harley smiled and tried to take her advice to heart.

When they left the little bar, it was one in the morning and they clung to each other as they stumbled and laughed. Harley’s world was swimming in a delicious sea, and Pamela’s hands on her as they balanced felt _sweet_.

“My place is up the street,” Harley said, “way quicker than a cab, if you wanna crash there?”

“Yes please,” Pam said, brushing her hair from her eyes and trying to straighten up, to _appear_ sober. She still had to lock her arm in with Harley’s, to form a chain as they made their way down the street to Harley’s apartment. Lucky for them, the elevator worked here, unlike Jack’s dingy little apartment building, and they rode it to the fifth floor, walked down the nicely kept hall, and Harley took a few tries to get her key into the lock. Pam had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter, and Harley was cursing her out lovingly, until the door opened and she nearly danced.

She pulled the redhead inside and locked the door, leading her down the hallway- past the old portrait Jack had done of her when he first moved in with her- past the photos of the two of them over the years she’d put into a collage of frames, and into her room.

Pamela broke away and flopped down on the bed, kicking her heels off with a sigh and letting the world settle down. Harley let her hair out of her loose pigtails and stretched, before she sat on the bed next to Pam.

“God I’m gonna hate myself in the morning,” she said.

“Prone to hangovers?”

“I just don’t drink this much a lot,” Harley admitted, the world swimming just a bit still. Pamela rolled onto her side and reached over, dancing her fingers along Harley’s jean clad thigh.

“Maybe you need to live more,” Pamela said, and Harley sighed.

“I lived once. Didn’t end that well.” She looked away, at her nightstand- the framed photo of her so many years ago, a young Jack with his hair still blonde, smiling and holding her and they had been _laughing_ when his camera had gone off. She’d lived _so hard_ when he was with her- in this apartment, this place she’d lived in since she came to Gotham and studied at the University. So many memories were buried here, seeped up from the carpet and into her sheets and pillows at night and flooded her mind with the things _that could have been_.

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” Pamela said, “you’re still here. How about you give it another shot?”

Harley looked down, watched as Pam sat up and reached out, took her smooth face in her hands and stroked her skin with her fingertips. Harley quivered- partially because she had wanted this _so badly_ and partially because it meant letting go. She hadn’t been with anyone seriously in years- she hadn’t loved aside of Jack, and she let it consume her at times. She tried to hide it- but he saw it, she knew- because she saw how sorry he was in those beautiful green eyes that he couldn’t help her- couldn’t pay her back all the love she had given him, as he’d say.

Pam was so close now- Harley could feel her breath on her lips, but she knew she wouldn’t come closer. Harley had to do it- Harley had to take what she so badly wanted.

She closed the gap and touched her lips to Pamela’s, felt their sweet softness as Pam kissed her back, one of her hands leaving Harley’s cheek to wrap around her waist. Harley clung to her blouse, worked two buttons open without even realizing it, felt Pam’s tongue trace her lips, and she opened them, let her in.

Pamela sucked it all from her, the ancient desire and the repressed need, the want to hold him and keep him and Harley felt lighter, clung to her as they tumbled down to the mattress as Pamela crawled over her, one hand working quickly to unzip her jeans, to slide within and stroke her nether lips through her panties. Harley let out a shaky moan, Pam’s lips trailing down her neck, to the neckline of her t-shirt. Her other hand pushed the shirt up over Harley’s breasts, and she kissed down the center of her body, along her navel, until she reached the hem of her panties as her jeans began to sink off her hips.

“Live,” Pam whispered against her skin as she gripped all the fabric and pulled them down Harley’s legs, tossing it all behind her and returning to her place between her thighs. She kissed up one, until Harley felt her breath on her sex, and her tongue was tracing along her slit, making her quiver and whimper and toss her head back as she delved inside and sucked the need from her veins.

When Harley woke up the next morning, the light streaming in through her open curtains hurt her eyes- but otherwise her head felt fine. She stretched and looked next to her, saw Pam sleeping soundly- naked, the blanket pooled down around her waist. Harley grabbed it and pulled it up, placing a small kiss to the woman’s shoulder, before she sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her toes sank into her plush carpet pleasantly, and she wiggled them.

She felt light, happy, _alive_. She stood up and stretched, the morning air warm against her naked body. She walked to her window and stroked the edge of the curtain, peeking out at the world below. It had to be late morning, ten or eleven, by the way the world was buzzing below. She smiled and pulled the curtain shut, found her underwear and t-shirt on the ground and threw them on, and walked out of her room.

She found her cellphone in her kitchen across the apartment, and had no idea how it ever got there. She grabbed it as she turned the coffee pot on, and opened it to a text from Jack from earlier in the morning.

_Call me when you get the chance_.

Her heart fluttered for a second- _oh God what was wrong_ \- but she reminded herself it was Jack, not Bruce. If something had happened Bruce would have called her- a dozen times, at least.

She called Jack, and the phone rang a few times before he picked up.

“This is late for you,” Jack said, and Harley sighed.

“Well good morning to you too, Puddin’. What’s goin’ on?” She reached into one of her cupboards one handed and grabbed two mugs by the handles, bringing them down.

“Bruce is taking me to this...get together...thing,” Jack said as he flopped down onto the couch in Bruce’s penthouse. Bruce had run out quickly, leaving him alone except for Alfred, who could be heard off in the kitchen. “Next weekend. It’s big Harley, someone he knows in the business or whatever. Like, he’s getting me a fucking tux and everything.”

“You? A tux?” She laughed. “He does know you haven’t worn anything but jeans your like, whole life, right?”

“Serious for a second, Pumpkin. I’m freaking the fuck out. He’s...he’s making us public. I’m going as his boyfriend, not some crazy kid he met and seems to enjoy hanging out.”

Harley froze with her refrigerator door open. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling, the butterflies in his stomach swarming. “He...he’s gotta be _really_ serious about me then, right?”

“Definitely.” Harley pulled the creamer out and left it on the counter. “I mean... he’s got a reputation, Jack. And this city’s socialites aren’t really accepting people- he shows up with a guy and the whole thing is _kaput_.” She leaned her hip against the counter. “Does it make you happy, Jack?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, twirling some of his curls. “I mean, of course it does. This guy...God Harley, I’ve never felt like this before. It’s _crazy_. But there’s just...there’s a huge difference between us, you know? Where we came from and all.”

“So what?” Harley shifted her weight to her other hip. “Who cares Jack? Build a bridge, use a ferry, hell, swing over the gap with a vine, I don’t care. But don’t let that stop you. Bruce is pretty crazy about you, and you’re obviously _insane_ over him. You fuck it up and I’m beating your ass.”

Jack laughed. “Okay, okay, sorry _mom_.”

“Accepted,” Harley said, looking up as she heard her mattress moving, the sounds of soft footsteps. “Now, Mommy has a ladyfriend over, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Jack gasped. “What? Harley, what? Don’t you dare hang up-“

Harley ended the call and set her phone down, just as Pam walked out. Harley stared, her breath rushing out- she was still naked, her red hair in rich messy curls around her, her eyes sleepy but sparkling.

“I...I made...”

“Coffee,” Pam said with a smile. “I could smell it. Why don’t you come back to bed while it finishes?”

Harley hesitated just a heartbeat, then walked over, following Pam back to her bedroom. As they crawled into bed, she glanced at the picture of her and Jack on her nightstand. Her smile in the photo- pure and free, natural- had been displaced onto her face, felt as if it didn’t quite belong-

But when Pam kissed her again, she pressed it so deep into her skin that Harley couldn’t question if it truly belonged or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday, I will just write an Ivy/Harley fic. One of these days...
> 
> Also, noticing this is becoming almost as much Harley's story as it is Jack's.


	13. Chapter 13

It was Wednesday when Jack got two, very important calls.

One was from Oswald. He needed to meet with him, to discuss both a permanent addition of Jack’s work to his gallery, and that Gotham’s young artist exhibit had been scheduled for the following weekend- he wanted to discuss what Jack would have on display.

The other was from Bruce. His tuxedo was ready, and he wanted him to come over and make sure it fit perfectly.

Jack wasn’t sure which gave him more anxiety, but he was pretty sure the tux did.

So, he killed two birds with one stone. He scheduled a late lunch with Oswald, and then told Bruce he’d stop by the office later that afternoon or early evening, and go home with home. And through all of it, he was still looking at apartments. He’d gone and had a look at one, but the owner hadn’t “liked the look of him” and had declined the offer to rent. He was back at square one, with only about two weeks left on his lease.

The place Oswald had picked for lunch was thankfully towards inner Gotham, by Wayne Enterprises, and it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to Bruce. Jack settled down at the cafe with Oswald, who was nursing a strong, steaming cup of coffee and the newspaper.

“Ah, Jackie boy,” he said, “Good to see you could meet with me so fast. Let’s talk business. I want Harlequin for my gallery. All of it.”

Jack knew it was coming- everyone loved that series. Everyone loved Harley in that suit. _He_ loved Harley in that suit. He’d wanted for so long to give her one of the staring pieces, for some grand occasion, but it had never come- and now he was thinking he should craft something more personal for her, anyway.

“Alright,” Jack said, “if the price is right, it’s yours.”

Oswald laughed. “Oh Jackie boy, you’re getting sly. I like it. You name it, it’s yours. I’d pay your rent for a year just to have a third of it.”

Jack didn’t go that high, but the number he wrote down on his napkin and slid across the table was enough to blow his own mind. Still, he had his hospital bill the pay- he’d been reminded that morning when he got his mail- and that was going to take a very huge chunk from the money Oswald had given him. He was cursing his weak insurance the whole time- wondering why he even bothered. It barely took anything off the bills on his meds, and wasn’t paying for all his sessions with Dr. Crane. This money would take care of that, and still leave some for his apartment hunting.

Oh, but there was the other bill to his current landlady. That too. And the bill for the ambulance Harley had called, because she couldn’t drive Jack herself in both his and her state. _He’d forgotten_.

He held his breath, but Oswald agreed, and he sighed in relief. Okay, okay, that would cover that. His deposit for an apartment was just smaller.

“I can get them sometime next week,” Oswald was saying, “that’s a hefty sum I’ll be withdrawing. The bank will need some time to transfer the funds to the proper account.”

Jack only nodded, drummed his fingers on the table. He couldn’t argue, he’d have to take what he could get.

“Well then, the next item- you’re going to be at the exhibit, aren’t you? If not, I’ll have to give your space to someone else, but everyone is looking forward to seeing you. Word’s getting around about your breakdown, and people are worrying.”

“I’ll be there,” Jack said, “I was working on some stuff before it I need to finish. It’ll be a preview for the collection I’m aiming to have done by this fall. A little dark, a little sexy, very odd. You know, me.”

Oswald chuckled. “Oh yes Jack, very you. Will you be announcing that you’re selling your pieces as well? I’m sure you’ll have buyers. You know my friends love attending these little things, finding those new up-and-coming artists. They just love to have things no one else in their circle has heard of.”

Jack frowned a little. He dind’t like that he- or the other young artist in Gotham for that matter- were used so rich snobs could be hipsters. He wanted everyone to appreciate what they did. But he couldn’t say that to Oswald without offending- besides, of all of them, he wasn’t that bad. He seemed to genuinely like what these kids came up with. Had he been any other person, he would have only given Jack half of what he asked for.

“I’m sure they’ll be pleased,” Jack said without much inflection, as Oswald went off on a few of the artist he was looking forward to seeing himself.

After he’d said good-bye the Oswald, he walked the few blocks to Wayne Enterprises. Up the elevator, he walked right up to the secretary, who looked at him with her old, judging eyes, but didn’t stop him as he walked past her, to Bruce’s office. He knocked twice, didn’t wait for a response, and opened the door.

Bruce was one the phone, but gave him a smile and motioned him over. Jack closed the door and walked over, hopping up onto his desk and sitting there, letting Bruce slip between his legs and rest one arm on his thighs.

“Yes, yes of course. Alright.” He rolled his eyes to Jack, who reached up and covered his mouth as he giggled. He hooked one of his feet under the arm of Bruce’s chair and pulled him closer, impatient. When he finally hung up Jack was reaching for him, pulling him up into a kiss.

“I bet I could make those calls more fun,” he teased, and loved the color that reached Bruce’s cheeks. They hadn’t been intimate since his breakdown- it was like Bruce was worried touching Jack too much would _break_ him-

Truth be told, Jack was more likely to break if he didn’t.

Bruce cleared his throat. “How about you hop down, and we head back to my place? Make sure everything fits you. Alfred is expecting you for dinner, anyway.”

Jack slipped off the desk and ran his fingers along it, looking around the office. “He’s too sweet,” Jack said truthfully. “Good thing I barely ate when I was with Oswald.”

“How did that go?” Bruce asked as he shoved some papers into his briefcase.

“Very well,” Jack said. “He’s got a big spot reserved for me in the city wide exhibit next weekend. I’ll have to spend all of the week making sure my work is prepared. I got a bit...thrown off course with things and all.”

Jack left out the bit about selling his work. He hadn’t told Bruce about that, about the necessity for it. And ever since he had agreed to it with Harley, it hadn’t been brought up. She was busy- she was so close to her degree, she was trying to find placement in a better job, she was meeting with Pam every moment she wasn’t in class or babysitting Jack. He didn’t need to lay more on her.

Bruce wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulders as they walked out, saying pleasant good-byes to everyone they passed by.

When they stepped off the elevator at his penthouse, Jack was assaulted by the rich smells of Alfred’s cooking- and realized just how hungry he was. His stomach growled, and he blushed as Bruce laughed.

“Guess I forgot to really eat today,” Jack said, and Bruce sighed.

“You take horrible care of yourself,” Bruce muttered.

“Excuse me, Master Wayne, but you’d forget as well if I did not pester.” Alfred was standing in the hallway, smiling at them. Jack laughed and grinned. “Hello Master Jack, good to see you.”

Jack blushed a little. “Hi Alfred.”

Bruce wanted to get him into the tux right away, but Alfred insisted they sit and eat first. Jack wasn’t about to argue.

Dinner turned to coffee- or for Jack, some thick hot chocolate he couldn’t pass up despite that it was may- which turned to reclining on the couch as Alfred tried to catch Bruce up on the news he’d missed while he was at the office. This street closed because of an accident, these stocks up, those down.

Before Bruce knew it, it was nearing ten o’clock, and Jack _still_ hadn’t tried the damn thing on. Alfred was retiring, and Jack was yawning already, curling up under the small, soft blanket Alfred had draped over him _rather lovingly_ while Bruce watched the late night news.

“You need to try it on,” Bruce said, clicking the TV off. “C’mon, you’ve put it off long enough.”

Jack sighed and stood up, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he trudged down to Bruce’s room. Bruce didn’t see the big deal with the whole situation, a few minutes with it on to make sure he didn’t need any last minute alterations done, and they could crawl into bed and get some sleep.

Jack took his time putting each piece on, like he wasn’t sure how to button a shirt and tuck it in properly. Then again, Bruce figured he’d never worn a tux before- he tried to remind himself of that when he helped Jack with his bow tie.

“There,” Bruce said, straightening the lapels on the jacket. “Comfortable?”

“I guess,” Jack said, “Wish the pants were tighter.”

“They’re not meant to fit like your jeans,” Bruce said- though he could admit, the whole thing would be hotter if he could see more of the shape of Jack’s legs. The thoughts poisoned his mind with images of said legs naked, quaking as Bruce had touched him that one time in the shower, and he had to clear his throat and try to think of _anything_ else, lest he risk tearing the tuxedo to get to Jack underneath.

“Can I take it off now?”

“You’re going to have to wear it the whole night next weekend,” Bruce reminded him. “Can you handle that?”

“Yeah, since I have to.” He took the jacket off and passed it to Bruce. “But I’m not about to sleep in this thing, unless you want it all wrinkled.”

Bruce chuckled. “Okay, okay, you win this round. Now strip and get in my bed.”

Jack grinned like a fool and made quick work of the tux, crawling into the large bed in his underwear and welcoming Bruce a few minutes later, when he’d gotten everything put nicely away, nuzzling into him and sinking into his arms.

The event was Saturday night, and Friday morning, Jack had a therapy session. It was scheduled for Saturday, but he’d called Dr. Crane and asked they have it a day earlier- Bruce intended to keep him the whole day to make sure he _looked proper_.

Dr. Crane was, of course, more than welcoming, and Jack was relieved to vent to someone who nervous he was about this.

“I mean, it’s public and all. You know these guys will get the news all over the city. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, former playboy, bedding down with some broke ass artist kid.” He sighed, tugged on his curls with one hand. “I just don’t want him to regret it if there’s backlash.”

“That’s a very grounded concern, Jack,” Crane said, “Have you talked it over with him?”

“I’ve brought it up a little. He just keeps saying he doesn’t care what they think, anyway. Bruce isn’t really a big fan of his fellow wealthy ladies and lords.” He flopped his hand onto his forehead in mock drama, sighing again. “Oh Dr. Crane, what’s a boy to do?”

He chuckled. “Good to see your sense of humor is healthy, Jack.”

Jack grinned. “I just don’t wanna lose him, ya know?”

“I know Jack. I know. Let’s look at the positives to this, shall we?”

“Okay, okay. Well, no more hiding. Bruce is already making it pretty obvious at the office that we’re a thing. And his friends know. I mean, we went on a few double dates of sorts. We went clubbing one night, did I tell you that?” Crane shook his head. “No? Oh, well. That. _That_ was hot. I mean, being sandwiched between Bruce and Dick Grayson? Lord almighty, I needed one hell of a cold shower after that.”

Dr. Crane laughed, and Jack grinned.

“Dick’s boyfriend kissed me, too. Jason’s his name. I can’t read that guy at all. Like, he likes me for some reason. Relates to me, ‘cause he came form nothing and got pulled into Dick’s world of wealth and whatnot. I like the guy, I really do. His _eyes_ \- oh man. Baby blue and just drown-worthy.” Dr. Crane was writing something, and Jack raised an eyebrow. “I took a picture of him when he was talking about Dick. Those eyes tell it all. I haven’t talked to him since, but I wanna do a piece on him. Him and those eyes.”

“Jack, does Bruce know?”

“About the kiss? Yeah. He wasn’t worried. Maybe Jason kisses all his lovers? I don’t know, but either way he didn’t care. And I don’t think he’d care if I wanted to do a piece on Jason. I know Dick would go mad with joy. He’s a fan- which makes things sort of cool, I guess.” Dr. Crane nodded. “...Is it weird that I like the idea of being sandwiched between them all? Like, maybe I’m just so sexually deprived right now, but it’s hot. Bruce...well, I think he’d have a laugh. I wouldn’t seriously ask though. I’d get jealous if I had to share Bruce.”

“Are you and Bruce not intimate right now?”

“No,” Jack said with a sigh. “Only have been a few times- and never _all the way_.” He winked. “Sounds like I’m in high school saying that, but it’s true. And since I had my break down, nothing. I think Bruce thinks I’m made of glass now, that it’ll hurt me. Truth be told, he could probably _fuck_ some sense into me.”

Dr. Crane gave him another laugh, but Jack kept a somewhat serious face, because it really _was_ true.

Jack didn’t end up at Bruce’s penthouse alone the next day. Harley came right along, convinced she had to be there to make sure he looked presentable- and for pictures. She wanted proof of him in something aside of jeans and his high-tops.

As if that hadn’t been bad enough, it was Harley who picked Jack up, but Pamela driving her car and smiling at him. He’d been forced to hide any shock and be very polite- when inside he wanted them all to shut the hell up because he was going to be paraded that night and _he didn’t feel pretty enough for that_.

Bruce greeted all of them warmly enough, as did Alfred, who was offering coffee to the guests and buzzing about how it was nice to have people in the Penthouse. When Bruce pointed out that Dick came by from time to time, Alfred only repeated him, and Bruce had to laugh.

They all had lunch, and Bruce commented that Harley and Pam made a lovely couple. Jack had wanted to say it, but was afraid he was just reading everything too strongly, or worried that maybe Pam didn’t want it pointed out. But the woman just smiled and thanks Bruce, Pamela leaning over to kiss Harley’s cheek softly.

After the late lunch and a tour around the Penthouse- well, that level anyway, Bruce didn’t show them where he hosted his own get togethers, or the many empty levels, or his own private gym- he was ushering Jack to his room to get dressed.

“Oh lord,” Jack said, trying to dig his heels into the carpet. “You first baby. Show me how it’s done. I’ll be on the couch.”

He took off before anyone could grab him, and Bruce sighed.

“Would you ladies be interested in making sure at least I look presentable?” he asked. “At this rate Jack might be showing up in his underwear.”

Pam giggled, but Harley sighed because it was quite possibly true.

Bruce didn’t take long to get dressed- he was, after all, quite used to this- and after the girls gave him the okay, he walked out to the parlor, where he found Jack draped on a couch, watching TV, _of all things_.

Bruce cleared his throat and Jack looked back, eyeing him carefully- taking his time, really.

“Not bad,” he said, “looks good on _you_.”

“It looked good on you the whole thirty seconds you had it on. Now c’mon, at this rate it’ll be morning by the time we leave.”

When Jack didn’t move Bruce walked over and reached down, hoisting him up and nearly dragging him off the couch. Jack yelled in surprise and fell, thumping onto the floor with a frown. Harley was rushing out the moment she heard him, stopping and raising one blonde eyebrow.

“What the hell Jack? Spend time on the floor and we’ll have to get you to take a second shower.”

“Third,” Jack said as he stood up. “I couldn’t sleep and showered at four in the morning to try and calm down. And then again before you picked me up.”

“What’s up with you?” Bruce asked, eyeing Jack, and he frowned.

“What’s up with me is I’m being dragged way out of my comfort zone, Brucie baby, and I’m terrified that when your little friends react to you being with me, you’re going to change your mind. I’m terrified of losing you- but hey, that’s what always terrifies me.” He scowled, brushing past Bruce. “Where’s the damn tux, let’s just get this over with.”

Harley let Jack brush past her and into the bedroom, and walked over to Bruce.

“He’ll cheer up,” she said, reaching out and taking his arm. “He’s going to play the perfect boyfriend tonight, swear it. He loves you too much to do anything on purpose that might make people think otherwise.”

“He doesn’t need to be perfect,” Bruce said, his eyes a little pained. “He just has to be _Jack_. That’s all I want. It’s not like I care for any of the people he’s going to meet tonight- I just have to keep connections fresh. But what they think of my personal life, I don’t give a shit about. I just want Jack to have a little fun- to be part of my world.”

Harley smiled and squeezed Bruce’s arm.

“See, that’s what he needs to hear, doll.”

Jack was straightening his bow tie when there was a knock on the door. With a sigh he responded to come in, expecting Bruce or Harley, or god the both of them, ready to tear him a new one and fret over _this and that_.

Instead, the door opened and Pamela slipped inside, walking over to where Jack stood in front of the mirror.

“Oh,” Jack said, looking at her reflection. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I figured you weren’t. Relax a little, Alfred brought them some coffee as a distraction.” She ran one of her hands along his shoulders. “Not bad kid, you clean up pretty well.”

“Sure,” Jack said, pulling on his green curls. “Maybe I should’ve bleached my hair, gone back to blonde or something. Green haired freak really isn’t the kind of arm candy Bruce Wayne ought to have.”

“Now, who are we to say what Bruce should have? He should have who he wants, and he wants you, Jack.” Pamela reached out, twirled one of his curls. “He didn’t ask you to try to look like some run-of-the-mill boy. He didn’t ask you to pretend to be someone you’re not. He just wants you as you are, Jack. Stop worrying whether or not you’re good for him or if you’re what he should have. You’re what he _does_ have. And he picked you for something.”

Jack sighed, and Pamela came around to fix his bow tie, which still wasn’t quite straight.

“You’re going to turn heads,” she said, “some are going to be because people are terribly cruel. And some are going to wish they could take you home with them. Don’t jump to too many conclusions. I know the rich of Gotham, I get to deal with their funding. Trust me, they like a little spark, even if they won’t admit it. Half of them will undress you with their eyes.” She ran her hands down his chest, fixing the buttons on his vest. “Just remember, Bruce will be doing it the most. _All night_.”

Jack blushed a little. “I wish he really _would_.”

“So take the lead. Man up Jack.” Pam punched him lightly in the arm, which made him laugh. “Now, I’m going out there, and I expect you to come out in a minute, two tops. And come out confident. You look amazing- you saw how amazing Bruce looks. Knock him dead.”

She winked, and then walked away without another word, leaving Jack to smile and decide he _definitely_ approved of her.

Pamela accepted the cup of coffee Alfred offered her with a smile, as Bruce checked his watch and sighed.

“Let me just tell him we need to leave soon.” Pam sighed and reached out, touching his arm.

“Give him a minute Bruce. He’ll be out. Trust me.” She looked at Alfred, who had _so conveniently_ brought the coffee out just in time for her to slip away for a second, and gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, but we need to leave-“

Bruce stopped when his bedroom door opened and Jack walked out, pulling his jacket so it straightened against his chest. Pamela hadn’t lied- he cleaned up well, even if the shock of green hair stood out stark against the black. His curls were soft and touchable, and the tux had been tailored tight enough to give slight hints of the curves he hid beneath- Bruce had had it tailored tighter than he would have on himself, thinking it might make Jack feel better.

“Ready?” he asked, stopping in front of them, but looking only at Bruce, giving him a dazzling smile. Bruce nodded, dumbly, because he wasn’t sure he had a voice in that moment, and Harley was pulling her phone out and snapping a picture.

“Oh boys, just one picture!” she squealed, feeling like a mother when her daughter appears in her prom dress, and Jack smiled and slid right up to Bruce, under his arm, resting a hand on his chest and giving _that_ smile he could pull out of nowhere. Bruce smiled and squeezed his shoulders, but his head was floating.

He wasn’t sure how he got down the elevator, into his car with Jack nestled next to him and Alfred driving. Didn’t remember the trip, because he was staring at Jack’s smile and eyes and hair and _remembering_ those feelings that had first sprouted in the bar, on his couch, with those fingertips and butterfly lips. Remembering the jitters in his stomach and the way they made him want to gather Jack up and hoard him.

Jack’s smile faltered just a bit when they reached their destination, when the car halted and Alfred lowered, the privacy screen, giving them a soft smile.

“Enjoy yourselves,” he said, and Jack nodded as the door was opened for them. Bruce stepped out first, fixed his jacket, and held his hand in for Jack. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack took his hand and stepped out, gripping it tightly as he was guided into the mouth of the beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's like a stubborn kid. I love it :D <3


	14. Chapter 14

They were barely off the elevator and into this new, strange penthouse, when Bruce was being greeted by stiff, smiling faces, cheeks brightening from the champagne. Jack clung close, saw their eyes on him, but they ignored him, waiting for Bruce to introduce him.

“This is Jack,” he finally said to the crowd surrounding him, and rattled off a few names that swam in Jack’s head and were lost. Jack smiled and gave a shy, half wave, and received a few short, quick responses, before they were trying to pull Bruce in multiple directions. Bruce took Jack’s hand so as not to lose him, and allowed himself to be guided around the room for the many “hellos” and “how are yous” he would have to give and receive.

No one addressed Jack directly at first, and he was fine with that. He sipped at a glass of champagne as Bruce made a round around the room, until they were settled into a parlor on a plush couch with two other couples- both women blonde with overly red lips and diamonds around their necks.

“So where is Talia Brucie?” one of them asked, her voice a long, whining sound. Bruce darted his eyes to Jack quickly.

“Talia and I have decided to go our separate ways,” he said, taking a sip of the champagne. Jack took a sip as well, but kept himself calm. Of course people would ask about Talia, he knew, he actually had expected it.

“What a shame,” the one blonde was saying- her hair was a short, sleek bob, her eyes lined heavy in midnight blue. “Such a pretty thing she was.” She turned to Jack, ran her eyes over him. “And...”

“Jack,” Jack filled in, and she smirked.

“Jack, yes, how did you and Bruce dear meet?”

“Uh, well...we just sorta ran into each other on accident,” Jack said, looking at Bruce, who gave him a small nod, the _it’s-okay-you-can-tell-them_. “See, Bruce was in my favorite bar one night, and I just sort of liked his look and went over, and we just clicked.”

She quirked up one perfectly drawn bar. “Bruce, whatever were you doing in a bar in _that_ part of town?” She laughed, and Jack frowned, because he hadn’t specified _where_ , and she was just making assumptions about him. Granted, that one was right, but still- Jack didn’t like it.

“I like to see all of the city,” Bruce said, reaching over and resting a hand on Jack’s knee. “And I’m glad for it. Meeting Jack was just...amazing.”

The woman frowned, and the blonde next to her clicked her tongue as her glass was refilled.

“Bruce, honey, how long have you been...well, _you know_ -“

“Gay?” Jack filled in, trying not to grit his teeth. She raised her lip momentarily.

“Yes, _that_. Perhaps that’s what drove poor Talia away-“

“Talia chose to leave,” Bruce said, frowning. “As for the rest, I’m not gay-“

“But you’re with a man, honey. Do you even realize? I mean, I know he _looks_ rather womanish, but...”

“You know, not everyone fits into pretty little labels,” Jack said, having had about enough. “Maybe Bruce doesn’t like men, and I’m just the exception. Maybe he’s not going to judge me by what’s between my legs and let that decide if he can love me.”

The woman took a long sip of her champagne, her eyes a quiet sort of angry, and her date looked over from his conversation with the young waitress, then turned back, far more entertained by her scooping neckline.

“So what do you do, Jack?” the other blonde asked, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass.

“I’m an artist.” The two women looked at each other, and then laughed, the second blonde letting her thick blonde waves roll over her shoulders.

“Oh Bruce,” she said, “Just where _do_ you find these people?”

With a frown, Jack stood up, pulling away from Bruce’s hand, and walked away from their continued laughter. He could handle so much, could back talk some defense, but this was too much. He took another glass of champagne and found the elevator, riding it up until it stopped, and he was let out onto the roof of the penthouse. Jut as he’d expected- because this guy obviously had _money_ , just like Bruce, it was furnished with chairs and railings along the edges, to keep any drunken accidents from turning into catastrophes.

Jack grabbed one of the chairs and tugged it all the way to the edge- grunting because it was heavier than he expected. He settled down into it and propped his feet up on the railing, downing the new glass of champagne in a long succession of swallows that left his head fuzzy. Letting his hand fall over the side of the chair and the glass dangle between his fingertips, he looked out over the Gotham skyline.

It was pretty at night, bright with the lights that never seemed to go out. He couldn’t see it like this from his apartment, and even Bruce’s penthouse, he never ventured from the floor Bruce really lived in. So much _wasted space_.

Jack didn’t move or say a word when he heard the door open to the roof, or close, or the footsteps echo towards him, the sound of a chair being dragged. It was settled next to his, and Bruce filled it, looking out at the skyline with him.

“I’m sorry about them,” he said, “I really don’t have any excuses. To say that I like any of these people is a lie.”

“But you bother coming because you’ve got to keep up connections?” Jack asked without anger, and without looking. Bruce nodded.

“Yeah.”

Jack shrugged a shoulder. He _got_ that. He had to deal with that with his art. He’d have to deal with it more now that he was selling.

“So, those two blondes...are they fucking or something?”

Bruce nearly spit out the last of his champagne, and started laughing. “God Jack, what? Where does this shit come from?” Jack shrugged.

“I dunno, I got that vibe. Plus, they were so passive-aggressively negative about our sexuality, always makes me think there’s something there.” He let his glass clink onto the ground and reached over, finding Bruce’s hand. “Hope I didn’t over step a line back there with them.”

Bruce shook his head, squeezed Jack’s hand.

“Not at all. You were you, Jack. That’s all I want. Besides, they deserved it.”

Jack smiled, felt something warm in his belly beyond the alcohol. He stood up, pulling Bruce with him, and leaned against the railing, pulling Bruce over so they were chest to chest.

When he kissed Bruce, he tasted like champagne and that general saltiness that always clung to his tongue, that coupled with Jack’s sweetness so exquisitely Jack couldn’t imagine one taste without the other. He clutched at Bruce’s shirt and pressed his hips against his, partially because his mind was fuzzy and his body said _it was a good idea_ \- but mostly because he simply _wanted_ to.

Bruce pressed back, reached up and stroked one of his scars as he tipped Jack’s head back, delved between his lips and took his breath. Jack felt his knees growing weak, and had to really lean against the railing, forgetting for a moment where he was, just that Bruce was there and kissing him and feeling like he did back on Jack’s couch, alive and breathing and humming with some sort of stark naked desire that demanded to be set free.

“When can we go home?” Jack mumbled against Bruce’s lips, eyes nearly rolling back as Bruce’s lips traced one scar. Bruce chuckled- made Jack’s skin vibrate.

“Not soon enough,” he said, hooking one arm around Jack’s waist. “Come back down with me and have some more to drink.”

Jack giggled, beginning to get the feeling back in his legs. “Why, Mr. Wayne, are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Not in the slightest,” Bruce said, taking his hand and leading him away from the railing. “Just trying to show you a good time.”

“I’d have a better time on my knees. Or better yet, my back.” Bruce’s jaw dropped a little and he gave Jack a look of _did-you-really-just-say-that-out-loud_ , and Jack was giggling and shrugging his shoulders. “Champagne makes me honest,” Jack said, “and _you’d_ have a far better time if I was on my knees or back, too.”

Bruce blushed as they descended the stairs from the roof to the elevator, but didn’t deny that it sounded far more _enticing_ than the rest of the evening.

Bruce made a point to leave early on, despite the host and a few of his acquaintances requests to stay later. There was only so much Bruce could take of the whole ordeal, and he came up with the lie that he had lots to do the following day- he was, after all, one of the only active owners of a company here. Most of them just let someone else do the dirty work.

When he and Jack crawled into the back of the car and Alfred greeted them, Jack was giggling and a _little_ tipsy from all the champagne. Towards the end he’d decided he’d have a better conversation with a glass than any of the guests.

“Pleasant evening?” Alfred asked.

“Could have gone far worse,” Bruce said, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders and holding him close. “Jack didn’t end up killing anyone, which is a plus.”

“Were you worried?” Jack asked in a sing-song voice, giggling again.

“Not really. You’re a bit drunk, baby. Let’s get you into bed when we get home.”

Alfred chuckled at them and raised the privacy screen, just as Jack reached up and fiddled with the buttons of Bruce’s vest.

“I like when you get me into bed,” he said, opening the vest and laying his hand against Bruce’s shirt. “It’s gonna take an army to get all these clothes off though. Better start now.” He winked, and Bruce was laughing, wrapping his arms around Jack.

“Not tonight, Jackie-“

“Well why the hell not?” Jack asked, the giggles leaving his voice. “I’m _way_ more than willing, we just survived that...monstrosity , and it’s been _forever_ Bruce. Hell, you’ve never _actually_ fucked me.”

Bruce’s eyes widened a bit, and Jack was squirming to escape his lap, but he held him firm. In fact, he pulled him in closer.

“Do you... _want_ me to?” Bruce asked, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“Jeez-us, of course I do sugar. I mean, I’d fuck you senseless too, but I don’t think you’re ready for that. I’ve always tended to be more of a bottom anyway.”

Jack was so calm, it was almost unnerving for Bruce. He loved Jack, he knew that, even if he didn’t say it nearly enough- but there were still things he had to get used to. It made intimacy hard- even if Jack made him hot to the core. But he didn’t want to _hurt_ him, and Jack had been through so much. He didn’t think Jack was ready. He didn’t think _he_ was ready.

Alfred retired when they reached the Penthouse, leaving Bruce and Jack to ride up the elevator to their floor alone- to be welcomed by cool darkness. Bruce was undoing his bow tie as they stepped off, taking a deep breath. He was looking forward to some sleep.

Jack was much more solemn. He left his tux as was and followed Bruce into the bedroom, fumbling for his phone to text Harley and let him know they’d returned safe and sound- and in one piece. Bruce is stripping slowly, hanging pieces up to be dry cleaned properly in the morning. Jack leaves him after a moment, phone discarded on the nightstand, and Bruce lets him, focusing on disrobing without destroying anything in the near dark. He could turn a light on but he doesn’t feel like it- enough like sneaks in through his curtains to allow him to see.

He’s naked from the waist up when Jack returns, leaning against the door frame and taking a long pull from a bottle of scotch he’d grabbed. Bruce watches as he fights down chills- knows Jack doesn’t actually like scotch- he just stills sips from Bruce’s to let his lips touch the glass in that same place- only likes the way it tastes on his tongue and lips. He wants to question him, but keeps his lips firmly shut instead. He just watches, how that throat moves in the shadows, how lean Jack is, the curve of his hips that he can see by the way his jacket drapes.

Bruce turned and thought back to the car, to Jack on his lap and admitting that he wanted Bruce to fuck him. He can see Jack on top of him, head thrown back and that neck long and exposed and straining as he cries out- and Bruce had to reach up and brush his hand through his hair, try to clear his head because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want that- even if it’s a new level of sexuality he hadn’t quite come to terms with.

“Don’t drink so much,” he says, not looking back to Jack, “it can’t be healthy with your meds. Come get some sleep.” He looked back, caught Jack taking another drink. “You don’t even like scotch.”

“Yeah, but you do,” Jack said, walking over, “so it was all I could find. I don’t feel like _actually_ looking, anyway.” He set the bottle on the nightstand, let Bruce work his jacket off and hang it up. He reached up and was clumsy with his bow tie- not like Jack, and Bruce wondered how much he’d drunk when he wasn’t looking.

“You’re going to have a hang over in the morning if you’re not careful.” He batted Jack’s hands away and undid the bow tie, removing it and working on his vest. Jack watched idly as it’s opened, and then Bruce is working on the buttons to his shirt, opening it up to pale skin. Half way down he stops and lets his thumb rub over a puckered line of scar tissue, and Jack’s eyelids get heavy. “What’s it from?” he whispered, and Jack looks, as if trying to remember.

“Nineteen, got into it with these two guys who thought I’d be easy to fuck with. Broken glass to the chest- I busted one guy’s nuts. No breeding for him.”

Bruce rubs it again- wonders what it’d be like to see Jack’s body tense and release with that sort of force. He doesn’t doubt it’s there somewhere.

He leaned down and traced Jack’s throat with his lips- he knew he shouldn’t, shouldn’t provoke but he loves his throat and watching it work, and Jack doesn’t fight him as he teases the skin and opens his shirt more, until it’s being pushed off his shoulders with his vest.

“This?” Bruce asks, tracing a scar along his hip bone, and Jack eyes it for a moment.

“Dad got pissed at me, chucked me into the coffee table. It broke- part of it in me.”

Bruce grimaces and Jack steals the moment, kisses him and reaches up to sink his hands into his hair. He’s a mix of champagne and scotch and typical-sweet-Jack, and Bruce drinks it all down as their tongues meet and meld and melt and drown.

This wasn’t what Bruce meant- but he can’t stop. Jack is too much, he always is, and Bruce is pushing him onto the bed and crawling over him, nearly ripping his shirt and vest away to let his lips and tongue and teeth tease one pale nipple. Jack hissed, arched up, tilted his head back and Bruce can feel he’s hard- isn’t surprised, just wonders how long Jack has been. He reaches down, palms him through the clothing and silently screams at himself that he’s only making it worse- but he can’t stop. Ready or not, Bruce _needs_ him suddenly, he’s denied it too long now.

Jack chokes on his moan as his breath catches in his throat. He’s hot and wants his clothing _gone_ but doesn’t have the words for that- he’s tangled in the sleeves of his shirt and his vest and he can’t move without help- without Bruce.

“Baby,” he gasps, and Bruce is helping him, untangling him and pulling it off until they’re equally half naked and Bruce is unzipping his pants. He pulls them off, even Jack’s socks, leaves him in just his underwear. Jack giggles and feels light and rolls away, onto his stomach and looks back over his shoulder, lifting his hips just a little to accentuate the curve of his ass. “C’mon,” he teases, and Bruce crawls over him, kissing up along his spine. A scar near his left shoulder blade.

“Tell me,” he whispers and kisses it.

“Thrown into barbed wire,” Jack whispered, “old building, gang site. I wanted to take some pictures, they smashed my camera, threw me against it. Might’ve done worse if the cops hadn’t shown up to bust ‘em for drugs.” Bruce’s tongue drags along it and he moans. “Oh sugar, _again_.”

Bruce obeys, traces it before closing his lips over the scar and sucking gently, hands running along Jack’s sides before gripping his hips. He pushes down against Jack’s ass and he groans and pushes up and pleads from his clumsy lips.

Bruce would have said no a half hour ago, in the car. He had, but now- now he’s crawling off Jack and tearing his underwear off and leaving him naked and pale and _fucking glorious_ on his bed.

Jack looks back over his shoulder again, smirks. “You’re over dressed,” he says, and Bruce raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah.” Jack rolls over slowly, lazily, props up on his elbows as his cock rests against his abdomen and Bruce thinks there’s nothing more perfect then him in that very moment. “Off, all of it.”

Bruce obeys as if Jack has his fingers in his brain, gets off the bed and unzips his pants, pulling everything off and chucking it away, before crawling back on, naked now, and trailing kisses up Jack’s left thigh. There’s a few thin scars near his upper thigh, and Bruce nuzzles the flesh.

“Tell me.” He wants to know every scar- even though Jack has countless. Wants to memorize them and feels like he should have started long ago- that very first night.

“A little too kinky with my ex,” Jack says, and Bruce’s head shoots up and stares at him. Jack shrugs a shoulder. “What can I say? He liked it rough, and he didn’t mind spending some time right ther- _ah_!”

His words are lost in a gasp as Bruce traced his tongue up along the underside of his sex, not wanting to hear about who has fucked Jack, who’s had him in their mouth- any of it. For a moment, Bruce wanted to think he was the only one. Wanted no one else to have this image of Jack.

Maybe the champagne had gotten to him more than he thought.

“Nnnh, Br-ruce,” Jack gasps, engulfed in his mouth now, head tipped back. “F-uck.” He could be gone then, this could end in Bruce’s mouth if Jack isn’t careful- but it’s hard when Bruce’s hand is cupping his balls gently, his other squeezing his thigh as he moves his head. He’s learning- and fast- and Jack isn’t sure how he’ll survive moments like this.

He shivered, gripped at the blankets, and begs for Bruce to pull off, to stop so he can breathe. Begs him because he’s greedy and he wants _more_ , and Bruce pulls back and looks up at him, smirking.

“Who said it’d have to be done?” he whispered, before swallowing him again and Jack _just can’t handle it_ , it’s been too long, and he quivered as he cried out and thrust up into Bruce’s mouth, his orgasm shaking him. Bruce swallowed, it was easier than he would have thought, and crawled up Jack, kissed him and reminded him of it all with every bitter hint in his mouth. Jack clung to him, whimpered and pushed up because he was still half hard and he still wanted Bruce _inside_.

And Bruce can’t deny it- in that moment, he wanted it too. Wanted it so badly that he was hard enough to ache so painfully he cried out when Jack pushed their pelvises together. He reached down, cupped Jack’s ass, kneaded the soft flesh, and Jack tipped his head back.

“Baby _please_ ,” he whimpers, his voice a sweet, bubbly thrill like the champagne taste hidden on his tongue. He untangles from Bruce, rolls over onto his stomach again, wants Bruce _like this_ and Bruce can’t contain himself.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered, and Jack is reaching for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and and fumbling for what he knows is there. His fingers wrap around the little bottle, and he passes it back to Bruce.

“One first,” he whispered, even if he knows it’s not enough- but it’s been _so long_ that Jack knew he couldn’t handle more. He waited for it, expected the intrusion- instead, felt Bruce grip the soft flesh and part it, felt his breath and then his tongue- hot and slick and _so right_ and Jack cries out because this is the _last thing_ he expected.

Bruce isn’t as naive as he let on to be.

Jack is torn between pushing up against Bruce’s mouth, and down into the bed to grind and get some _friction_ , and chooses Bruce’s divine mouth, whimpering and crying out softly as that tight ring of muscle and teased until Jack is nearly delirious. His fingers flex in the blanket, clutch, unclutch- until finally Bruce is pulling back and one slick finger replaces his mouth, pressing into him.

Jack hissed softly, looked over his shoulder to watch as Bruce moved the digit delicately. A few thrusts, and Jack gasped, “another,” body needing it, and Bruce obeyed. He seemed so intent, as if he needed to concentrate, and Jack lifted his hips to meet his thrusts, rolled them gently and mewled and wanted him to _relax_ because he was doing fine.

“You’re...not...hurting...me,” Jack breathed with each thrust, “ _relax_.” He rolled his neck, groaning as Bruce’s fingers made a scissor like motion, again-and-again-and-again.

Bruce eased the third in before Jack asked, and Jack dropped his head and groaned into the pillows, feeling _almost_ full, realizing it had been so long, he’d wanted Bruce so much, and when those fingers curled just the right way he jerked up and cried out, cock jerking, hard again, into his abdomen.

Bruce smirked- still tense, but unable to hide that _he_ liked that Jack liked it. He was throbbing, wanted so badly to just fuck Jack senseless in that moment, but he waited until Jack gave him the okay. Good thing for him, Jack was nearly delirious at this point, and just as wanton as him.

“F-fuuuck, _Bruce_ ,” he gasped out, “c’monc’monc’mon, _now baby_.”

Bruce pulled his fingers out, shaking as he stroked himself to slicken up, and then was pulling Jack’s hips with one hand as he scrambled to his knees, guiding himself with the other. He pushed gently, barely pressed the tip into Jack, and his mind began to spin and spiral. He stilled- and Jack, far too impatient, shoved himself back until Bruce was fully inside him. Bruce gasped and trembled and Jack gave a soft, happy cry.

For a moment, Bruce forgot exactly _how_ to be intimate- he just knelt there enjoying the pulsating heat around him, but when Jack pulled away and pushed back, the sensation double and he remembered _exactly_ what he was supposed to be doing. He gripped Jack’s hips and held him steady as he set a slow, steady rhythm- one Jack fell into, that hit all the right spots and made him quiver gently.

“Not so- nnnnh, bad, is it, baby?” Jack asked, breathless, and if Bruce had had the breath for it, he would have chuckled.

“No,” he said, punctuating the thought with an exceptionally strong, deep thrust- one that made Jack cry out. He chuckled and ran one hand up and down his spine, watched the way Jack twisted to help thrust back, to set a faster pace. Bruce leaned down, buried his hand in Jack’s tangled curls and tugged, and Jack cried out and jerked up, suddenly on his knees. Bruce’s arm locked around his waist, held his back to his chest and continued to thrust, Jack squirming and whimpering.

One of his hands was tracing Bruce’s arm, before it dipped lower, wrapped around his own aching cock and began to stroke, matching each of Bruce’s thrusts. Bruce watched, smirked, and buried his face in Jack’s neck, his own eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he _swore_ Jack seemed to tighten around him. At this rate, he wouldn’t last.

Though, from the sounds Jack was making- each keening cry and broken, sobbing moan- he didn’t think he would either. He pulled him tighter against his body, fel the way his back could slid against his chest, each growing slick with sweat- and Bruce thrust harder, bit at Jack’s neck and nibbled his way up to his earlobe.

“Almost there?” he whispered, and Jack gasped, eyes snapping open.

“Been there since you first shoved your cock in me,” he admitted, pushing back against Bruce and making his breath huff out in his ear. He shivered. Jack smiled and began to pull away, confusing Bruce. “Just go with it,” he gasped, and Bruce obeyed, pulling out of Jack’s body very unwillingly.

Jack turned and guided him down onto his back, before he climbed on top of him. He reached back, gripping his cock, and slowly slid down onto it, eyes rolling back as Bruce filled him once more. Bruce gasped, gripped at Jack’s hips so hard he would bruise- clung to him to make sure he was _real_ and that this was actually _happening_.

Jack set the rhythm here- Jack controlled it all, and Bruce was alright with that. He watched as Jack kept one hand back on Bruce’s thigh to keep steady, the other working himself quickly, trying to keep up with his movements, with Bruce’s thrusts up into him. Bruce tried to keep him steady too- held him and traced little circles into his hips with his thumbs- watched as those wild green curls tossed and bounced around him, as his face scrunched up a bit, until he was screaming Bruce’s name, his pupils blown and head tilted back as he convulsed around him. Bruce felt his muscles clench and unclench countless times, saw his cum shoot over his knuckles, staining his abdomen.

Bruce gave in then, gritted his teeth and gave one final thrust before he cried out too- cried out, “Jack!” and let it all flow into him. Jack rode him through it, panting and trance-like, until Bruce couldn’t handle it and he was pulling him off, begging him to come down.

Jack collapsed onto the bed next to him, laid on his stomach and felt Bruce reach over and trace his fingers up his spine. He purred, reached out and placed his hand lazily on Bruce’s chest, too green eyes meeting nearly black, and for a moment they held that gaze-

Then Jack was giggling, grinning like a fool. “Brucie baby,” he said, “good fucking _Lord_.” He traced one finger down Bruce’s chest, pushed himself up on his other elbow, enjoyed the feeling of slick skin. “That could’ve killed me. In the most insanely awesome way.”

Bruce chuckled, unable to not. He felt...absolutely amazing, to tell the truth. He’d never had much of an afterglow after sex, but in this moment his entire body was buzzing with this tingling warmth that made him just want to _laugh_.

“I’m sorry I waited so long to do it,” Bruce admitted, and Jack grinned.

“Told you, it’d be awesome. And I didn’t break. Although,” he looked down at his own chest, the sweat and semen turning cold, which was beyond unpleasant. “I could use a shower now. Fuck, we might want to change your sheets, too.”

Bruce laughed and stood up, reaching for Jack and scooping him up into his arms. Jack gave a shriek like laugh and threw his arms around Bruce’s neck, clinging to him.

“C’mon _princess_ ,” Bruce said, “let’s clean you up.”

“Just remember, it’s your fault I’m filthy,” Jack reminded him as Bruce carried him into the bathroom and flipped the light on with his shoulder blade. Bruce chuckled. He was sure he’d never forget.


	15. Chapter 15

Bruce was up, partially dressed, and pouring himself a cup of coffee when he heard his bedroom door open, and Jack’s trudging footsteps along the hallway, towards the kitchen.

He appeared in just his underwear, hair disheveled- and Bruce was glad he had told Alfred to please not come up until the afternoon. He looked like a god in that moment, his eyes oddly alive, despite the fact that he was tired- Bruce could feel it.

“Morning sunshine,” Bruce said, sipping his coffee, and Jack gave him a smile.

“Morning there sugar. Wanna christen the new day on the counter?” He winked and Bruce turned a bright red, Jack laughing and walking over to the mess of pill bottles he had left on the counter when he first arrived yesterday. He was still giggling as he sorted through them, grabbing what he needed until he had a palm full of drugs. His laugh died, and he got a glass of water, going through the routine of swallowing each and every one, until he had enough drugs in his system to keep his sanity balanced.

When he was done Bruce reached out, rubbed his back affectionately, felt the vertebrae below the soft skin.

“I hate this shit,” Jack admitted, looking at the pill bottles. “All of it. I know I _need_ it- and I hate that. Sometimes I just wish I was...normal.” He looked back, and Bruce kissed his temple.

“You’d be boring. I like you crazy.” He smiled warmly, hugged Jack with one arm, and Jack sank into it. “Well, contained crazy. Let’s leave your insanity to your art, and that’s it.”

Jack laughed. “Speaking of, I have a lot of shit to get done this week, to get ready for the exhibit this weekend. Hope you weren’t planning on taking me to any more parties.”

“I wasn’t,” Bruce admitted, “but if they all end like last night, maybe I’ll have to come up with something.”

Jack smiled and gave Bruce a chaste kiss. “I’m gonna go find pants before Alfred sees more than he ever wanted to.”

Jack walked out, and Bruce watched him go- unashamed.

Monday brought therapy, and Jack was a little smug as he, very casually, admitted to Dr. Crane that he and Bruce had finally had sex. _Finally_.

“And how did that make you feel?”

“You sound like a textbook,” Jack said, resting one bent arm under his head. “Fucking amazing is how. Best lay ever.”

“Not physically, Jack.” The boy rolled his eyes.

“Like Bruce was really accepting me as his boyfriend, and not just some guy he likes to hang out with. Like...like he gave part of himself to me. Closer to him. Good, in all. Really good.” Dr. Crane nodded. “You’re being awfully boring Doc, what’s with the textbook nonsense?”

“Well Jack,” Dr. Crane said, looking up from his notepad, “Two things. One, I am required to give the hospital a written report on you, and I need some serious questions and answers to give them- aside of my write-ups. And two, I’m evaluating you, considering if it’s time to finally stop sending you to the babysitter’s.” He smiled when Jack giggled.

“There’s my Dr. Crane,” he said, “So, what’s the diagnosis? Am I doomed to have Harley attached to my hip, or can I finally jerk off in peace?”

Dr. Crane laughed, rolling his eyes and Jack grinned. “I think some time alone will do you good.”

“Oh thank God. I love her, but she’s got a life she needs to live. Besides, in all seriousness, I’ve got an exhibit I’m in this weekend, and a lot of work to do.”

Jack hadn’t been exaggerating. He spent most of the week elbow deep in paint and ink, finishing up a few stray pieces. When he wasn’t working, he was apartment hunting. He was turned down from another possible complex, and was beginning to get frustrated. He didn’t want to have to admit to Harley what was going on, and ask to crash at her place while he tried to find a new one. Sadly, it was beginning to look like that was going to be his only option.

Oswald stopped by his apartment Thursday. He didn’t call, and Jack answered the door, wild curls in a knot on the right side of his neck, paint splattered all over himself, his jeans, and his t-shirt. He froze for a moment, then forced a smile.

“Oswald, hi! I wasn’t expecting you. C’mon in- sorry, this place is a total mess.” Oswald followed him in, and Jack had spoken the truth. He’d begun to pack in between painting session, and there were boxes with labels scrawled on them all over the place- not to mention Jack’s paint and ink and brushes _everywhere_.

“I always heard artist work in crazy conditions. You just proved that, Jack.” The boy shrugged a shoulder.

“It’s work and moving, actually,” he admitted, “I have to be out by the end of next week.” Oswald raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“No idea.” Jack leaned against the counter. “Been lookin’, but I haven’t found much of anything. Most people aren’t interested in having someone like me living under their roof.”

“Well, that explains why you’ve decided to sell, finally.”

“That, and the massive medical bills I have now,” Jack admitted, unsure why he could open up to Oswald. He figured he’d just worked with him long enough.

“Good thing I came to deliver this then,” Oswald said, fishing inside his jacket and pulling out a check. He handed it to Jack. “For the Harlequin pieces. Would it be alright if I took them now? I’d like to get them set up, and announce this weekend that they’ll be on display.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Jack said, tucking the check into his pocket. “I need a break anyway. Head on down to your car, I’ll start bringing ‘em down.”

When Jack finally had the last piece securely in Oswald’s overly-expensive car, he felt a twinge of sadness in his chest. He sighed, closed the trunk, and forced a smile for Oswald.

“So be on location Saturday morning to set up,” he was saying, “so we’ll be ready to go by that afternoon. It’s going to be busy-“

“I’ll be there plenty early,” Jack reassured him, “Call me if something comes up and you need help with anything.”

“Always so helpful,” Oswald said, shaking his hand. “And always a pleasure, Jack. Take care of yourself, and get some sleep. You just have to look your best- part of your allure is the pretty boy behind the paint.”

Jack just gave a nod, keeping the false smile until Oswald was gone and he was walking back up to his apartment. It hurt now, knowing Harlequin was gone. Knowing that beautiful masterpiece he’d slaved over of Harley was no longer _his_. Of course, it was right where he could see it whenever he wanted, and he could still sell prints of it- but he liked going up to the attic and sitting there, surrounded by his work. That had been the center piece.

He poured himself a shot of vodka once inside and took it, let it burn down his throat. He winced, chased it down with another. He didn’t like that he was turning to shit like this suddenly. He wondered if he should bring it with Crane- let him know he was chasing the bad feelings with a bottle more often. It wasn’t healthy- especially with the crazy elixir of drugs he was on.

He flopped down on the couch and stared at his phone. Her face was there, she was a call away- and Jack should have left it alone, but he called anyway.

“Hello?” Harley’s voice was so welcoming.

“You busy?”

“Well...not really, Puddin’. What’s up?”

“Can you come over for a bit,” Jack asked, staring off at the mess of canvases he had out. “Just for a little.”

“Sure. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Jack said- thought it was a bit of a lie. Something hurt deep down, and he didn’t know what. He was sure if he hadn’t taken his meds that morning, he’d want to claw himself open and find it. “Just want to see you.”

“Give me an hour, I’m just finishing up this case study write up.”

“Sure thing sweetheart. See you.” Jack tossed his phone aside and closed his eyes, pressing his palms into them and trying to focus on the stars that burst behind his eyelids.

Harley was there _exactly_ one hour later, ever punctual. Jack greeted her with a smile, and she joked about the messy state he was in, asked about all the boxes he had, but he ignored that.

“So how’s the painting-“ she cut off, eyed the bottle on his counter. “Jack, were you drinking?”

“A little.” He shrugged.

“There’s a lot missing.”

“It’s been getting me through the week,” he admitted. “I’ll tell Crane tomorrow at my session. I’ve been drinking way more, I’ll admit.”

“You better. It can’t be good with your meds. Plus, you never were one for anything straight.” She grinned and he laughed as they settled on the couch. “So what’s up honey? Just need some company? I know you’ve been working up a storm here- Bruce has been calling _me_ because you’re too busy to stop and answer your phone. You could’ve called him over.”

“He’s probably busy,” Jack said, knowing the truth was because the ache in him had nothing to do with Bruce, and everything to do with her. “I’ll call him later though, I swear. I’m a pretty bad boyfriend to finally get him to get clingy and then get too busy.”

“Oh hun, you’re a fine boyfriend I’m sure.” Harley ran her fingers through her hair, and Jack watched the blonde strands move like golden silk. He reached out, tangled his fingers in it, and she watched him, didn’t say a word-

Until he twisted her hair around his fist and pulled her closer, pressing his mouth to hers. Harley made a startled sound that he drank down- before she was reaching for him, tangling her arms around him, not in control but being swept beneath the current. He pressed her into the couch and kissed her in a way he had once before- years ago, she knew- delved inside her in a way that made her tremble.

When he finally let her breath, his breath ghosted over her lips so perfectly, so sweetly, that she felt her breathing escalating.

“I sold Harlequin,” he whispered, and she was brought back to reality for a moment.

“What?”

“I sold it. Oswald picked it up today. It’s going into his gallery. I’m selling it all, Harley- but it hurt. Something inside me hurts knowing it’s gone. It’s like I sold _you_.” He sank both his hands into her hair. “I needed to see you, to know I didn’t. I don’t know what’s going on but-“ His voice broke and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m a bit of a mess now honey, and I’m sorry.”

Harley traced her hands along Jack’s shoulders, trying to wrap her mind around anything beyond that kiss. “I’m still here,” she said, at a loss for words.

“I’m terrified you won’t be one day. I owe you so much- I just...Harley, I’m confused now. I shouldn’t fucking hurt so much because of a damn _painting_.”

Harley took a deep breath, tangled her own hands in Jack’s hair. “I loved you once, ya know that, right?” He didn’t say anything. “I loved you more than life. I would have done anything for you. Whatever the fuck we had when you first moved in- I wanted it to last forever. But you moved on, honey. You told me no. And I know it was for the best. Puddin’, we need closure on all this.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We need to let go, so we can move the hell on.”

Jack didn’t say anything, but she saw the tears in the corners of his eyes. Slowly, he nodded. “Don’t think I didn’t love you too,” he whispered, “just...just don’t think I didn’t.”

“I don’t sweetheart, I don’t.”

“But we’re...we just... we’d never work...right?”

“Right,” Harley said, partially confirming it for herself. “You found someone who _completes_ you, Jack. You’re just relapsing because you’re moving on. Two steps forward, one step back. You took a big step selling your work- and Harlequin, of all of them. But you didn’t sell _me_. Just some paint on a canvas.”

Jack nodded, leaning back, forcing himself to breathe. Harley watched, ran one hand down his chest.

“Why _did_ you sell it, Jack?” she asked when she saw him visibily coming down. “I know we discussed selling some of your work, that it was something you should think about doing- but I honestly didn’t expect you to jump right in with Harlequin.”

Jack sighed, looked away for a moment, contemplated telling Harley the truth of it all. “I needed to,” he said, “I need the money, Harley. I’ve got bills up to my fucking eyeballs thanks to my breakdown. The money will cover most of it- at least give me a way to start paying, so the hospital doesn’t think I’m just going to try and _not_. And...and...” Jack took a deep breath, bit his lip for a moment. “I got evicted, Harley. I’ve got ‘til my rent runs out this month, which is next week, to move. I need money so I can pay for a new place- plus, I owe for the damages I’ve done to this hell hole in my time here. I couldn’t afford to hold onto them, even if I wanted to.”

Jack slumped a bit, felt Harley’s hands rubbing his arms affectionately. “Oh Puddin’,” she whispered, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’re more than welcome to come stay with me-“

“No,” Jack said, offering her a weak smile. “No Harley, I’m not. We’re talking about moving on- you and I need to find closure for _us_. I need to remember that you have a life, that you can’t drop everything for me. And you need to remember to live your life- for _you_ , not for me.”

Harley didn’t say anything- just took Jack’s hand, wanted to fix it all but knew he was right- she had to let him do it himself. And he had to let her let go.

“I love you, ya know that,” she said, and he nodded.

“I love you too, Harley. Always will.” He kissed her knuckles, smiled at her. “So, when’s the wedding with Pam?”

She laughed, shoving him off her lap. “Whenever it is, you’ll know- you have to be my maid of honor. Dress and all bitch.”

Jack laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed, and prayed he’d still be laughing in the morning.

“You did a good thing, telling Harley,” Dr. Crane said, setting his coffee cup down. “And remember, it’s better to lean on her then end up homeless, Jack. If it comes to that- you know my number. You call me.”

Jack smiled. “Why Doc, is that an invitation?”

“It is.” Crane smiled. “You’ve been quite a patient all these years, Jack. Hate to lose the entertainment too soon.” Jack snickered. “So, have you told Bruce?”

“No,” Jack admitted. “No, I haven’t. I feel like...like it would just seem like I was asking for him to step in, to pay my bills and put a roof over my head- and I don’t want that. I have to do this on my own. I don’t want Bruce to think...to think I’m dating him for money or anything. I really care about him. Harley wasn’t exaggerating- he completes me.”

Dr. Crane took a sip from his room temperature coffee, set his pen down. “Jack, I’m going to give you some advice. And I’m not saying it as your therapist- I’m saying this as a friend who has gotten to watch your life unfold for years. Tell Bruce. He won’t jump to any of those conclusions. I’m sure he’ll offer to help, but it won’t mean you’re with him for his money, or that you need the help and can’t handle it all on your own. When you love someone, you help them out. If Bruce needed anything, you’d drop whatever you were doing to get it for him, I’m sure.” Jack nodded. “Then think about it Jack, and think on it fast. And remember- you have my number. Don’t hesitate.”

By the time Saturday rolled around, Jack was jsut thankfully the week was over. He’d completed every piece he wanted for the exhibit, and even though he’d been rejected for another apartment, he’d made a huge payment on his medical bills- nearly the entire check Oswald had cut him- so that was two of three things off his shoulders. Still, he was sure he’d be in better spirits if he’d seen Bruce. He hadn’t- the entire week. It had been too hectic. When he tried Thursday night, Bruce had ended up stuck in a meeting that ran well over what he expected, and Jack had been so exhausted he couldn’t wait up.

So, as the morning air brought him life, in the center of Gotham, along the park, as he steadied one of his paintings, Jack was most excited about seeing Bruce again. About seeing those chocolate eyes that bore down into him and feeling those strong arms around his little figure. He worried his lower lip as he stepped back, looked at his work along the wall that had been erected just for this, looked to his left, saw other artists doing the same. They’d all break for morning coffee, some food soon, and then finish up, get ready for the exhibit to officially open after lunch. Oswald would be impressed that they weren’t behind schedule, but ahead. His goal was to have everyone ready to get going by dinner time.

Jack smiled. He liked the freeness of all this. No suits, ties, champagne. Just art, the artists that slaved over it, and when they were ready is when people showed up. They’d send out texts, and word of mouth would be enough. This happened twice a year- once in spring, and once in fall- and the last fall exhibit had never happened- nasty storms had plagued Gotham last fall, and even when they tried to reschedule, they just couldn’t get any good weather.

After coffee- or in Jack’s case, a big glass of orange juice- he called Oswald, told him to come down, that they were almost done, would be spreading the word by lunch. He hurried right over, walked about inspecting the various stands and walls covered in art, smiled when he reached Jack’s.

“Well Jack, you’ve out done yourself,” he said, eyeing the many pieces he’d hung up. “New series?”

“It’s a little peek at what’s to come,” Jack admitted, admiring the portrait he’d done of Bruce- all from memory- with that big, black mask, the words _The Bat Man_ written in bleeding ink along the space near his head. “Remember I said I’d have something new this fall? A whole series. I’m going to tie in the Harlequin set as well, get Harley to put the costume on for old times sake and do a few new pieces.”

“Magnificent,” Oswald said, “why, I can’t wait! I’m going to make a few calls, get some people down here- you know the news will be down once word starts. Put that dazzling smile on boy- it’ll win your name some fame today.”

Word of mouth brought the city out quickly- before Jack could even text Harley and Bruce and let them know everything was ready to go. Jack wondered around a bit from his post, trying to peek at the work around him, but not wanting to go too far, as people were always stopping trying to talk with the artists.

Sure enough, when Harley and Pam arrived, Jack was surrounded by a group of college kids, taking pictures with him and his art. Harley watched from the distance, laughing, Pam holding her hand, until Jack finally got away from them and headed over, smoothing back his wild curls.

“Quite popular today,” Harley said, and Jack shrugged.

“You wouldn’t believe how many people have asked if I’m single. Oswald wasn’t kidding when he said my looks do get me some attention. I just hope my art gets some too- otherwise, this is sort of pointless.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Pam said, eyeing it from a distance. “Care to let us see?”

“Oh, sure!” Jack led them over, and the looked at the works, Pamela smiling and pointing out any time Jack had used the local plants- at the vibrant colors.

“What’s this Jackie?” Harley asked, pointing to the portrait of Bruce. “Does Bruce know?”

“Not yet,” Jack admitted, “but he will when he gets here. It’s a whole series. I was hoping you’d put on your Harlequin outfit for it.” Harley laughed. “And I was hoping Pam would be interested in getting in on the action as well- I have some plans for her.”

Pamela smiled. “Aw, Jack, I’d be honored.”

“Hey, there he is!”

Three heads turned at the sound, were met by Dick grinning and waving. Jack smiled and waved, saw Jason and Bruce walking behind him as Dick hurried over.

“Oh man, look at all the stuff you’ve got up!” he said, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “You out did yourself! Where should I start?”

“This end,” Jack said, laughing lightly at the half hug, pointing to his left. Dick headed over, and Jack took a deep breath.

“He wouldn’t shut up the whole way over,” Jason said when he and Bruce reached the others. “So excited to see what you’ve got. I swear, you’d think _he_ was dating you, and not Bruce.”

Bruce chuckled. “Don’t say that- Dick will hear you and agree.” They all laughed- and while they were Jack closed the distance and threw his arms around Bruce- unable to wait. Bruce smiled and embraced him back, giving him a quick kiss. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too. A ton.” Jack smiled, leaned into him. Harley gave Jack a knowing look, then took Pam’s hand, leading her off to look at something. Jason took the queue and headed over to Dick, leaving Bruce to hold Jack and look at the wall of art facing him-

And what stared back at him, was himself. Same eyes, same jawline, he could tell despite the weird cowl. “Jack...”

“I didn’t wanna tell you,” Jack said, following his gaze, “I thought...it’d be too hard, without the visual. But it’s based on you- he’s the Bat Man. I don’t even know why it first came to me...just that you’re dark and sexy, ya know?” He grinned. “And sometimes mysterious.”

Bruce chuckled. “I sort of like it. Maybe it might be an improvement.” He swept a hand through his short hair and Jack laughed.

“Didn’t know you were into dress up and roleplay, sugar.” Bruce chuckled and kissed Jack’s cheek, allowing him to take his hand and guide him around the rest of his work.

The afternoon went off without a hitch- much to Jack’s excitement, and he had the chance to speak rather privately with some of Oswald’s friends who were interested in his work. Potential buyers were a good thing, he told himself. Especially if they were buying _soon_. Jack gave them his number and told them to call him when they were ready, and at the end of the evening when everything was torn down and he and Harley had made two trips to his apartment to drop off all the work, the six of them agreed on dinner.

“I’m telling you Bruce, that mask thing would be an improvement,” Dick said, making the table laugh.

“Now there’s nothing wrong with Bruce’s face,” Pamela said, taking a sip of her wine.

“Exactly!” Bruce said, glaring playfully at Dick. “Besides, you should be nice to the man who’s buying dinner.”

“Shit, you’re buying? Well, guess I’ll have to bring out my inner fat man.” Everyone laughed, even Jason, who had been fairly serious, as per usual.

“How about a toast?” Harley asked. “To Jack, for putting on quite the show today, and all his lovely work.”

“I can drink to that,” Bruce said with a grin, raising his glass, and Jack blushed at the sound of all the glasses _clinking_ together. Jack was just taking a sip when his phone rang, and he set his glass down, answering it.

“Hello?” He barely got the word out before he heard screaming at the other end, and the entire table turned to stare. It was his landlady, going on a rant about how there was still so much of his stuff in the attic, how he needed to get it cleared out by the end of the weekend so it could be used. Jack tried to push himself away from the table, but it was too late- they had all heard, and he had no choice but to stay put.

“Okay, I’ll work on it tonight,” Jack said, mentally canceling the night plans he’d made secretly with himself for Bruce. He’d have to cram everything in his apartment for the time being.

“And remember, you are out by Wednesday!”

Jack cringed, saw eyebrows raise, and gulped down a breath.

“Yes, Wednesday, I know.” She hung up, and Jack put his phone away, cheeks tinging pink. He felt everyone’s eyes burning into him- the only knowing set from Harley, who was keeping her mouth shut. Jack knew she wouldn’t forever though- if he didn’t explain, she would.

“I got evicted after my breakdown,” he finally said, reaching for his wine. His hand was shaking. “I’ve gotta get my art out of the attic this weekend, and by out of my apartment on Wednesday.”

“What the hell Jack?” Bruce asked, staring at him. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“What’s to tell? I’m just moving house.”

“Well, I can at least help you move.” Jack swallowed, and Harley broke in, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

“He doesn’t have another place yet,” she said, staring at Jack. “I’ve offered him my apartment until he can find one, but he’s declined. As it stands, he’ll be homeless in a few days if we don’t knock some sense into him.”

“I _am_ looking for a place,” Jack said, “Just...so far, everyone has rejected me. I’m a high risk, apparently, and no one is interested.” He shrugged one shoulder and took a long sip of his wine.

“Jack,” Jason said, trying to catch his gaze. “Let us help you out here.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” Jack said. “I’ve been selling my work so I have less to move and the money for a new place. I managed to make a decent payment on all my medical bills, and I’ve got a little left over for a security deposit and rent. I’ll be fine, I just have to find a place that’ll take me.”

“You’re selling your work?” Bruce asked, frowning. “Jack-“

“It was time anyway. I needed to- it’s part of my recovery,” he said without elaborating, shooting Harley a look. “It’s all fine.”

“It’s not all fine,” Bruce said, “But I’m going to make it fine. We’ll finish packing all your stuff this weekend Jack- you’re moving in with me.”

The table was quiet, and Jack just stared at Bruce.

“Can we take this outside for a minute?” Jack asked, looking across the dining room towards the door, and Bruce stood up. The two walked away, four sets of eyes watching until they faded from the room.

“Bruce,” Jack said when the calm night air settled on them, as Bruce turned to face him. “I can’t-“

“Why not? I thought you’d like the idea.”

“Well...I do, but-“ Jack hesitated. “I love the idea of being that...close to you. But I can’t let you do that. I’ve got to fend for myself here- I don’t want...don’t want you to think I’m in this so you can pick up the pieces after me. I’m in it just for _you_.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, before he laughed. “Jack you think I’d _actually_ think you were with me just for the perks?” He reached over, wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist and pulled him close. “Oh god Jack, I wouldn’t. After all this shit, I wouldn’t. We haven’t been dating long but I _know_ you. So put that idea aside and move in with me.”

Jack hesitated, reached up and stroked his fingers over Bruce’s chest. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive,” Bruce said. “It’ll give us that time we need to get to know all about each other.”

“Shouldn’t we do that _before_ we jump into living together?”

“A normal couple would.” Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “We’re anything but normal, aren’t we, baby?” Jack sucked on his lower lip, nodded. “So say yes. Let me take one worry off your shoulders.”

Bruce leaned down, kissed the tip of Jack’s nose- made him giggle, and Jack felt butterflies in his stomach. He grinned.

“Okay, okay,” he said, “so long as you drive such a hard bargain. But one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“I get the right side of the bed,” Jack said, grinning. “It’s always been my side.”

Bruce laughed and cupped Jack’s face in his hands, leaning down and kissing him. “It’s a deal, Jackie,” he said, before he kissed him again, and Jack was sure he’d float away if it weren’t for Bruce holding onto him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're looking at one, possibly two more chapters before this is complete. Holy cow. o.o


	16. Chapter 16

Jack stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow, looking at the piles of boxes that littered the large, open room. The walls were a crisp white- one wall was simply glass, a massive window that looked out onto Gotham. It was later afternoon, the sun was still bright and the city was ablaze below him.

Jack tightened his ponytail, trying to keep his curls from his face, and rested his hands on his hips. This space was _his_ a whole floor of the penthouse given to him as a studio. He’d wanted to fight Bruce on it- but the idea was too alluring, and Bruce had reassured him there was so much wasted space.

It was too glorious to truly pass up.

It’d need some work- getting everything set up, hanging and storing his works he hadn’t sold, but it would be worth it. And time was something he had. Jack took one last look, then headed towards the elevator, heading back down to the ground to get the last of the boxes from Harley’s car.

It had felt weird to look at his apartment empty- but a good sort of weird. Like he was closing one of the books of his life, opening up the next in the series. That night, climbing into bed with Bruce felt so _perfect_ that Jack wasn’t sure it was a feeling he’d ever replicate.

When Bruce had left to go to the office the next day, Jack had set to work in his studio. He didn’t anticipate getting any painting or sketching done, but he spent the day setting it up the way he wanted- one of the small rooms set up for holding his original pieces, one for prints, and one for supplies. It took him the better part of the day, but it left him feeling accomplished when it was done.

When he came up later that evening, Bruce was back already, standing in the kitchen talking with Alfred. Jack could hear him form down the hall.

“Sir, it’s simply my advice that you should clue in young Jack sometime soon.”

“I know Alfred, I know, I’m going to tell him-“

“Tell me what?” Jack asked, rounding the corner smoothing out some of the wrinkles in his t-shirt. He gave Bruce one of his dazzling smiles, and whatever was on Bruce’s tongue was forgotten.

“Just that I missed you,” Bruce said, and Jack let it slide because he was in no mood to chase shadows.

Jack fell into a routine with Bruce. He’d be gone during the day, and Jack would spend that time in the studio, or meeting with potential buyers- as he had quite the list lining up- or even with Harley, when she could be separated from Pam (and many times when she couldn’t). It was nice, it made Jack feel like life was somewhat normal.

He was sitting in the parlor one evening, not even a month after his move, sketching calmly while Bruce watched the news when they heard the elevator doors open. Jack didn’t look up- not until he heard Bruce’s breath escape him. Then when he did peer up through thick blonde lashes, he dropped his pencil.

He knew her on sight- didn’t need to have met her before, Talia just had a way about her. Besides, who else would have a way into Bruce’s penthouse? She had a woman with her as well, behind her, but Jack could barely see her.

“You should have taken your key back, darling,” she said to Bruce, raising her eyebrows. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You called have called. Or rang up.”

“That would be simply _boring_.” She folded her arms, raised her delicate eyebrows when she noticed Jack staring from the couch. “Oh Bruce, is this-“

“Talia.” Bruce’s voice was firm- an air of _shut-the-hell-up_ , but she ignored it.

“Defensive. Come here honey, let me have a look at you, at least.” Jack hesitated, then set his sketch book down and stood up, walking around the couch. He heard Bruce call his name, but ignored him- wished he had worn something more than faded skinny jeans and a t-shirt when he watched Talia’s eyes rove over him. “Not bad,” she finally said, “if you’re going to go for men, at least you picked a decent looking one. His hair is rather charming, in a rebellious sort of way.”

Jack giggled at that- felt like he shouldn’t, but this woman wasn’t entirely unlikable. Just a part of Bruce’s past. And he was sure they had each given their fair share of heartache during the relationship’s course.

“What do you want, Talia?” Bruce asked, stepping closer to Jack, and her cocky smile faltered to something more natural.

“To right a wrong. Or a few,” she said. “And I’ll admit, I was curious about this guy you had move in already. But more importantly,” she looked behind her, motioned with her head, and her friend walked closer, “I wanted to fix a mistake I made before it caused any damage.”

Jack didn’t see Bruce’s eyes widen- didn’t see the relief burst in them- all he could do was watch girl step forward, a little toddler nestled in her arms, looking around with shockingly dark eyes. Eyes Jack knew.

“It was just cruel to keep him away from you,” Talia said as Bruce walked over, scooped the little boy from the woman’s arms. He looked at Bruce, and a big smile crept over his face, before he snuggled into him and giggled, wiggling around happily.

Jack watched, confused, putting the pieces together. He didn’t need anyone to point out what was going on- didn’t need anyone to tell him those eyes on that child belonged to Bruce, that the joy he was watching his boyfriend go through could come from anything other than being reunited with a child. What he was confused about is _why this was the first time he was hearing about it_.

Bruce turned, faced Jack, and his smile stiffened. “Jack,” he said, his voice hesitant, wavering, “This is Damian...my son.” Jack saw the nerves in his eyes, saw how he waited on bated breath for what Jack was going to do.

He walked over, looked at the little boy- and gave him a big, warm smile.

“Hey there handsome,” he said, and Damian giggled, reaching for Jack’s curls and tugging on them. Jack laughed.

“We’ll work something out,” Talia was saying, standing next to Bruce, “about custody. I’m not about to give him up, and I know you won’t either. But we’ll think of something.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, watching as Jack made silly faces at Damian, “yeah, we will.”

Talia didn’t stay long, just long enough to talk briefly with Bruce, to give Jack a few once overs, than she was gone, taking little Damian with her.

“Let me explain,” Bruce started as he and Jack settled back down onto the couch.

“Just let me ask first,” Jack said, “where you ever going to tell me that you had a kid?”

“I swear I was,” Bruce said, brushing a hand through his short hair. “Seriously. I just... I wasn’t sure how to. I was afraid you’d take it poorly.”

“How? I never voiced anything against little rugrats,” Jack said, folding his legs on the plush cushions.

“I didn’t want you to see Damian as some tie between Talia and I- I was afraid you’d think that because we had a child together that we’d just keep drifting back.” Bruce sighed. “We never stayed together for him. I think ity sounds terrible that we didn’t- but every time we tried again was for us. We knew no matter the outcome, he’d be taken care of.”

“Well, I don’t see him as some chain keeping you with her,” Jack said, rolling his eyes, “I see him as a rather adorable squishy mini-Bruce.” Jack grinned.

“So...you’re not mad?” He shrugged a shoulder.

“No baby, I’m not mad. I _really_ wish you had said something sooner- but I’m not mad. I mean...we haven’t actually been together that long...we sorta just jumped into things.” Bruce chuckled.

“Yeah, considering you live here now.” He reached for Jack, pulled him into his arms and nuzzled into his curls. “Does he really look like me?”

“Oh lord,” Jack said, rolling his eyes, “Bruce, it’s like someone shrunk you. I barely see Talia in him. Sure you didn’t clone yourself, you vain, egotistical hunk?” Jack wiggled his eyebrows, and Bruce shoved him back off his lap and onto the couch.

“You’re such a brat,” he teased, and Jack just grinned.

“But darling, I’m _your_ brat.” Bruce chuckled and snuggled down into the couch, arms around Jack as they stretched out.

“So what were you sketching?” Bruce asked, lips finding Jack’s neck and kissing gently. Jack stretched back against him, purred softly.

“Just some ideas for you in that sexy suit.” Bruce chuckled.

“Are we going to start dressing up now?”

“I dunno- maybe. What should I start in? Have a thing for maids? Nurses maybe? I always thought I made a good nurse.” The two laughed and Jack turned, craned his neck to catch the ghost of Bruce’s lips.

“How about you just come to my bed as Jack, and I’ll strip you down and see what;s under that pretty skin of yours.”

“Oooh, a poet now Brucie?” Jack sat up, smiling. “I like that idea a lot, actually. But all you’re going to find is you.”

Bruce smiled, sat up as well and cupped Jack’s pale face in his hands, pulled him closer for a kiss- this one deep, searching for something, something twisting deep inside Bruce- and finding that same thing, twisting in Jack’s gut and reaching for him with bleeding, needy fingers.

That thing that was love.


	17. Epilogue

Outside, the summer heat was heavy over Gotham. Inside the penthouse, on the plush carpet of the parlor, it was pleasantly cool. Jack was giggling, his feet waving in the air, the breeze the motion created kissing his exposed skin in sweet little butterfly kisses, the carpet caressing his knees until the denim of his shorts started just above. He had his camera up in front of his face, giggling and making little noises at Damian, who was sitting on the carpet giggling and clapping, reaching for him as Jack snapped picture after picture.

“He’s more taken with you than I would’ve thought,” Talia said, sitting on the couch watching, a glass of lemonade in one of her hands. Jack just shrugged a shoulder, snapped a picture as Damian tumbled down rolled onto his stomach, trying to imitate Jack. “Maybe he can tell how much Bruce likes you.”

“Maybe it’s just my hair.” Jack looked back at her and smiled. He’d gotten to know her over the past two months- she’d had to be in Bruce’s life, there was no way around it, and Jack was alright with that. Even now, she was alone with him, Bruce was still at the office, and Alfred had gone out. And Jack was perfectly fine with that. She had never been cruel to him- and whatever anger he held for her breaking Bruce’s heart, he’d forgotten because if it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t have him.

“That too,” she teased, setting the glass down and getting up, walking over and scooping Damian up, who wiggled around. “But he knows when we approve of someone. Besides, he’s been seeing quite a lot of you now.” She tapped his little nose and he smiled. “And he’s going to be seeing quite a lot of you.”

Jack grinned and got up, clicked through the pictures he’d taken. “I swear I could plaster a whole floor with pictures of this kid,” he said as Talia leaned over and they look at them.

“You know, this might sound strange, but I wish you were around when he was smaller. We’d have so many pictures! We have barely any, really. Bruce and I were too busy breaking up and getting back together.” She sighed. “I feel sort of bad about that.”

“Well, he’ll have plenty of pictures from here on out.” Jack grinned and let the camera hang down against his chest, reached out and tussled Damian’s fluffy black hair.

“Everyone behaving themselves?” The two turned at the sound of Bruce’s voice, smiled at him as he walked in.

“What are you doing home already?” Jack asked, walking over and kissing his cheek.

“It’s too nice to stay holed up in the office,” Bruce said, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders to give him a quick hug, before they rejoined Talia, and Bruce took Damian from her, lifting him into the air and spinning. Damian giggled, and Jack lifted his camera, snapping a few more shots.

He stripped the camera from his neck and handed it to Bruce, in an exchange for Damian, and balanced him against his hip, walking him around the parlor, pointing at things and making silly sounds, which never failed to leave Damian giggling. Bruce smiled as they stopped at one of Jack’s paintings Bruce had had framed and hung up, and Damian reached out, pressing his little fingers to it and staring up. Bruce lifted the camera and clicked, looked at the picture that displayed, and couldn’t help but grin.

Talia was watching Jack and Damian too- smiling herself. “He has a way with Damian,” she admitted, “You picked a good one, Bruce. Hold onto him.”

He looked at her, and she smiled at him- a real smile, one he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. She reached over, took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

“Oh, I intend to hold onto him tight,” Bruce said, looking back, watching Talia walk over and take Damian back, as Jack stopped at the window and stared out at a bright Gotham, the sunlight rich in his bright hair. When he turned, Bruce saw that same light in those green eyes and that smile, as Jack stared back at him, nothing but affection, adoration dancing on his face.

Yes, Bruce would hold on _so tight_ he was sure he’d never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so, it's finally finished. I'm sorta sad, this was a blast to work on.
> 
> A big thank you to everyone that read, I hope you enjoyed it! :)


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